Betwixt and Between
by owlpostagain
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots featuring the cast and characters of Kingdom Hearts. Includes a variety of pairings  Akuroku, Zemyx, Soriku, Seiner .
1. Heat

**Betwixt and Between** is a dumping ground for drabbles and short one-shots, the proof of existence for some of those plot bunnies that demand to be written but never develop into something strong enough to stand on its own. There will be a variety of different pairings, most of them will probably be inspired by songs, it will be updated sporadically and randomly, probably four or five in a row for two weeks and then nothing for months. These are cheesy, cliche, not particularly well written or edited. Most of them are one shot deals written in an hour or so, just to kill the damn bouncing bunnies so I can move on to bigger things. Mostly it's just something for you to read if you get bored. Enjoy =)

**Things That Belong to Me**: an iPhone with all these songs on it, a baby stuffed tiger named Roxy, black leather gloves.

**Things That Don't Belong to Me**: Any and all of these characters, any and all of these songs, any and all of these lyrics, any and all of these settings. They belong to people much richer, luckier, and more powerful than myself.

* * *

**Title**: Heat  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: None

* * *

"Hey Axel?"

"Hmm?" Axel glanced up from the sticky sea salt ice cream dripping down his leather glove, his green eyes meeting Roxas' without even having to search for them. Roxas shifted his gaze quickly, watching the sugary blue pool in the folds of Axel's glove.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did, doofus. Twice." Axel snorted. He turned back towards his ruined treat and sighed heavily, dropping the remains onto the wall next to him. He set to work peeling the mushy glove from his thin fingers, and Roxas stared, his retort dying on his lips. He had never seen the other Nobody's skin, save his neck and face, and the slow reveal of the pale, smooth flesh from wrist to fingertip was doing odd things to the depths of his stomach.

"Roxas?"

"Huh?" Roxas shook his head with a sharp jerk, snapping his gaze away from the redhead's bare hands. Axel was watching him with a raised eyebrow, one corner of his lip lifted in an amused smirk. Roxas felt the heat burning across his cheekbones and ducked his head quickly, his eyes fixed on his ice cream. It wasn't nearly as melted as Axel's had been; the Flurry of Dancing Flames' ice cream always melted twice as fast as his.

"Didn't you have a question? Geez man, I thought your zombie days were done."

Roxas shrugged, hiding his face so the older boy couldn't see his screwed-up nose and cheeks as he struggled to remember the burning question he'd been dying to ask barely a minute before. He glanced surreptitiously at Axel's face, the redhead frowning as he scrubbed the sticky blue from his fingers. With a frustrated huff the Nobody popped his entire finger in his mouth and sucked, and Roxas very nearly exploded. The tattoos on the high, now-prominent cheekbones twinkled at him.

And then he remembered his question.

"Why did you get those tattoos?"

Axel froze and turned to face the younger Nobody, finger sliding from between his lips with a wet noise that made Roxas want to whimper. The redhead cocked his head to the side and studied his partner carefully. Roxas couldn't keep his eyes off the pale, glistening finger, but Axel seemed to have forgotten about the appendage entirely. He simply stared at the blond, who could feel the heat of his green green eyes even though he was consciously looking anywhere but the redhead's face.

"What?" Roxas finally snapped, defensive. A small part of him acknowledged that this may have been a particularly personal question, but that had never stopped Axel from asking Roxas thousands of things he never would have imagined talking about with someone else.

"Nobody's ever asked me about them before."

Axel was still staring. Roxas shoved his ice cream in his mouth, desperate for something to do with his hands. This left him nothing to look at, though, and he found his gaze wandering back to the long, pale fingers resting on the redhead's knee.

"They're not tattoos, Roxas. I didn't get them by choice."

"If they're not tattoos then what are they?" Roxas tore his eyes from Axel's lap and looked instead at his face, studying the symmetrical, tear-shaped marks on either side of Axel's nose.

"Burns, Rox. They're burn marks."

"How could you be burned, Axel? You're the Flurry of Dancing Flames, you are the fire. How can you burn yourself?"

Axel stretched his still-naked hand towards Roxas, who held his ground and tried his best not to flinch as he followed the foreign limb until it was no longer in his line of vision. The older boy had curled his fingers around Roxas' neck, the palm of his hand flat against Roxas' skin, and Roxas hissed in surprise at the _heat_ suddenly pressed against his skin. It was just on this side of bearable, just at the threshold of being too painful to maintain contact.

The taller Nobody slid his fingers slowly down the blonde's exposed skin, skin licking down his neck and over his collarbone. The trail of fire burned Roxas' skin; he didn't understand the sharp shiver that ran down his spine as Axel's nails scratched against his collarbone before lifting away from his flushed chest.

"I _am_ fire, Roxas. Every part of me burns. The first time I had to fight a Heartless, the first time I ever summoned the chakrams…I was just a kid, like you. I could barely hold it together…and after the thing melted away, after the chakrams had seared themselves to my fingers so badly that I couldn't let go of them, I cried like I was still Lea, still Somebody."

Roxas didn't move, his entire body hanging on every word that fell from Axel's (_fire hot_) lips. The redhead had _never_ spoken so openly before, no matter how many prying questions he had expected Roxas to answer. Roxas hadn't even known his Somebody's name was Lea.

"So they're actually...I mean, they're shaped like…but why would they…"

"Do you really think someone consumed by fire could produce liquid tears, Rox? Come on, you're not that dim. Flames. Tiny, searing, tear shaped flames. They landed on my cheeks just once, and let me tell you…I got over crying pretty quickly after that." Axel laughed humorlessly, turning his head back towards the sunset. Roxas noticed, for the first time, that the skin of the marks was slightly indented, as though branded into the older boy's flesh.

He placed his ice cream stick carefully on the wall beside him and peeled his gloves quietly from his fingers, tugging them off with his teeth. Roxas placed his comparably cold hands on either side of the redhead's jaw, cupping the burning skin in his fingers as he turned the older boy's face back towards him. Axel was entirely silent, green eyes burning into blue.

Roxas leaned forward slowly, pressing his ice-cream-cold, slightly-blue-stained lips first to one scar, then the next.

"I'm sorry you were hurt, Axel."

Axel watched him go with an expression most closely resembling a gaping codfish, one hand pressed to his cheek. For the first time since he'd gotten them, the scars didn't burn.


	2. The Man Who Can't Be Moved

**Title**: The Man Who Can't Be Moved  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "The Man Who Can't Be Moved" by The Script

* * *

There is something of an urban legend in Twilight Town about the man; the red-haired man in the black trench coat who sat at the top of the station tower day in and day out, without moving. Some people say he's crazy, some say he's just a bum, too lazy to get a job or an education or even anything to eat. He's skin and bones, scraggly and dirty, so pale and thin that some people say he can't possibly be real; just a specter, haunting the station rooftop like some poor lost soul.

Nobody really knew why he was there either; nobody bothered to get close enough to ask, except a group of deviant kids, and who ever listened to them? They said it was love; they said the man with the tears in his eyes and ink on his cheeks was in love, and he was waiting for his love to rise with the sunset and the tide, but what did a bunch of hooligan kids know about love? It was probably drugs, their parents said, one bad trip after another until he lost everything to a life on the street, desperate and withdrawing. Some said he was a convict, the teardrops inked for his kills. The less dramatic just thought he was a loser.

Mostly, Twilight Town _just didn't_ _care_. He was just another hollow, empty wraith floating through the city, ageless under months of dirt, sexless under tangles of red hair, heartless and soulless under molten green eyes. He was just another urban legend in just another city.

They could never imagine, never fathom, the concept of walking away, of waking up one morning and moving halfway across the world on a whim and a dream, dropping out of one of the most prestigious colleges in the world to take up residence on a slab of stone because of _one single night's dream_. They couldn't understand, how could they know how it feels to know with every fiber of your missing soul that the thing that will make you whole will be _here_ if you're willing to sit here and wait long enough.

So he let them guess and they let him wait and as long as he was just a crazy urban tale no one really minded if he lived his life on the clock tower roof, staring at the sunset like it was the only thing holding him on the ground. He left them alone and they left him alone and it wasn't until years later that anyone even noticed he had gone.

Some say he died, wasted away to nothingness under his precious sunset. The superstitious say he's still there, spectral and haunting, bemoaning his lost life, his lost love. The romantic, though, the romantic like to say that one day some blond kid, bedraggled and still in pajamas, came barreling towards the station like his life lay waiting at the finish line, and that's the day they both disappeared. Nobody, save the redhead and the sunset, knows for sure. That's what makes it an urban legend.


	3. Speak Now

This shit is so cotton candy fluffy it hurts my teeth. I really, really wanted to be true to the song and make Kairi a bitch, but I didn't have it in me. I'm tired of people being mean to her. I do, however, reserve the right to write version 2.0 featuring Kairi as a bitch at a later point in time.

* * *

**Title**: Speak Now  
**Characters**: Sora/Riku, Sora/Kairi  
**Song**: "Speak Now" by Taylor Swift

* * *

Riku tugged on his shirtsleeves with vicious little jerks, willing the fabric to lay flat under his coat, to just stop bunching up around his elbow. The effort was futile, he knew it was a lost cause, but it beat staring helplessly out into the mass of people sitting in the pews.

Sora had wanted their wedding to be on the beach, everyone barefoot with their toes in the sand, but Kairi had insisted. They rented out the small church house and exploded an entire flower store worth of flowers everywhere, each and every arrangement adorned with the traditional papao fruit.

"Ri…" Sora trailed off helplessly and Riku let out a small sigh, closing the distance between them and reach his hands up to his best friend's collar, twisting the pale pink tie into place and patting the vest down over it. Sora closed his eyes and bent his head forward, resting his forehead lightly against Riku's.

"I…Riku, I…"

"You're getting married today." Riku informed the brunet, as though their current setting hadn't quite given it away. Sora nodded, head moving against Riku's silver hair.

"And you, ever the dutiful best friend, are going to stand here and be my best man?" Riku didn't understand the question in Sora's voice. He smoothed the tie out one more time before letting his hands fall back at his sides, taking a step back and breaking away from Sora.

"Of course."

Sora didn't speak again, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he too fidgeted with his cuffs. Riku didn't know what to say, what to tell the brunet staring around the church with those big blue eyes, looking utterly overwhelmed. Maybe if the wedding guests were Heartless, maybe if Sora could trade his cufflinks for a keyblade, one of them would have some idea of what to do, but they had little experience with actual human encounters.

The first bridesmaid started walking down the aisle, some girl Kairi was friends with from school that Riku had never cared for, and he found himself suddenly aching for the pale little slip of a girl he hadn't seen in ten years. Naminé, despite the fact that her human interactions were even more limited than his and Sora's, would have known exactly what to tell him.

Naminé wasn't there though, Naminé couldn't be there, because Kairi was there, floating down the aisle in a gown that reminded Riku of a cupcake. She slid down the aisle towards Sora with a brilliant smile on her heart shaped face, glowing with that natural grace bestowed upon brides on their wedding day. Sora's lapis lazuli eyes were wide and bright in the afternoon sun pouring through the window, untamable brown hair wild despite several attempts to smooth it down for the day. He watched Kairi moving towards him with an intensity he usually reserved for the battlefield, a passion he usually saved for fighting. They both looked beautiful.

Riku closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, containing the words he was dying to say, the words he'd been dying to say since the day Sora came home with a ring in his hands. Don't marry her. Don't do it. You can't.

He didn't say a word, keeping his teeth firmly embedded in his bottom lip as Kairi reached the alter, her dad pressing a kiss to her knuckles before passing her hand to Sora's outstretched fingers. His hand was shaking as he tucked Kairi's smaller palm against his own, a symptom Riku could relate to all too well, although probably for different reasons. The teal eyed man tightened his hands into fists in an effort to stop his own shaking, but that just moved the shivers up his arms, into his shoulders. At least if he cried he could pass it off as happiness for his childhood best friends.

Sora stood with his back to him, and Riku was thankful for that, but Kairi kept giving him curious looks over her fiancé's shoulder, clear blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she studied the tense shoulders, the forced upturn of the corner of Riku's mouth. Her gaze moved between the two men, her two boys, more than once as the ceremony progressed, but if Sora noticed he didn't react.

"If anyone here has any reason to believe that these two should not be joined in Holy Matrimony, then speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Riku exhaled slowly, one shaky, quiet breath, before sealing his lips firmly. He wasn't even going to breathe in the silence. God forbid it be misunderstood, or, more accurately, god forbid it be understood entirely the way he means it. Pale eyelashes fluttered as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the moment to pass as swiftly as possible.

"Wait."

Gasps filled the hall, the buzzing of whispers and murmurs and hushed exclamations as everyone gawked at the front of the church, at the bride and the groom and the startled-looking preacher. Riku's hand flew to his mouth of its own accord, but his lips were still firmly pressed together, teeth so deeply embedded in his lip that he tasted blood. It hadn't been him.

"Tell him. Tell him, right now, and if he doesn't then you come back up here and you marry me, and I promise I'll love you enough for the both of us. But you'll spend the rest of your life miserable if you don't know the answer, and I couldn't stand living with myself if I knew that was my fault."

It was Kairi. Kairi was speaking, Kairi was interrupting her own wedding ceremony, staring imploringly at Sora, pleading with him to do _something_ that was making him shake his head emphathetically, blue eyes wide and terrified.

"Do it, Sora. Do it, for me. Please?"

Riku didn't understand what was going on, didn't understand why Sora was so white under his chocolate colored hair, why the entire congregation had stopped speaking, had possibly stopped _breathing_, why Kairi was giving him a small, sad smile over Sora's shoulder while the groom himself was turning around, squaring those broad shoulders and dragging his brilliant ocean eyes up to meet his best man's.

"I'm only going to ask you this once. Just this once, and I'm going to assume that whatever you say is the truth, so keep that in mind before you answer."

Riku blinked, forehead furrowed as he tried to understand what Sora was saying to him. Did no one else realize that they were in the middle of a wedding ceremony here?

"Do you want me to marry her?"

"Sora…I…what?" Riku gaped. _Gaped_ at him, utterly perplexed. Sora and Kairi had been dating practically since the first time Sora came home, had been engaged for almost a year, and Sora was asking him _now_, standing in a tux in front of almost their entire town, in front of Kairi, if he thought it was a good idea?

"Do you, Riku, want me, Sora, to marry Kairi?"

"No."

He'd expected the whispers to start again, the shocked and horrified gasps as Riku admitted that he didn't want his two best friends, the two people everyone on Destiny Islands had assumed would be together since the day they met, to get married, but the church was silent. Eerily, hauntingly, cricket-chirpingly silent.

"Are you in love with her, Riku?"

Sora's voice was soft, so soft, but it echoed so loudly in the silent church, from the very first exhalation of breath to the last hitch in Sora's shaking voice as he whispered Riku's name. Riku didn't have the words, didn't think there were words, really, in this or any other language, to express even half of what he was feeling right now, staring down at his best friend, the most important person in his life, who looked very much like he was trying not to cry. Teal eyes flashed back to look at Kairi, who was apparently beyond the point of trying to hold back her tears. The second smile she gave him was weaker than the first, but encouraging, granting permission, and he never loved her more in his entire life than he did in that moment.

"No, Sora. No. I'm not in love with Kairi. I love Kairi, I will always love Kairi, but not…never like that."

"Then…why…"

And Riku was done with pretending. They were already here, standing in front of a bunch of strangers who were supposed to adore them, lightyears away from the people who really, truly loved them, stuck in a home they couldn't leave with a past they couldn't escape, and the only thing Riku ever wanted in this or any other world was barely an arm's length and a few words away from him. What was the point in trying to act like there was anything but this, anything but now.

"It's you, Sora. I'm in love with _you_, and the thought of you marrying Kairi and living happily ever after without me makes me wish I'd never left that damn shore, because that would hurt less than –"

Sora's hands were shaking on his jaw and Sora's cheeks were wet with tears and Sora's lips had caught his at an awkward angle because Riku had been mid-word, but the important part was that Sora was _kissing_ him, Sora was cupping his face and Riku's arms were sliding under his jacket, wrapping around his waist, and at least one of them was crying and out of the corner of his eye Riku could see the beaming smile Kairi was failing to hide behind her hand, despite the tears still glistening on her cheeks.

"Thank you," he breathed, pulling away from Sora to reach out one hand to Kairi. She took it with shaking fingers, squeezing gently as she shrugged her delicate shoulders in that beautiful, wasted dress.

"He said 'speak now.'"


	4. The Way You Lie

Uncontrollable urge to counteract the last story's saccharine sweetness. Inspired particularly by the lines "if she ever tries to fucking leave again I'mma tie her to the bed and set this house on fire."

* * *

**Title**: The Way You Lie  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "The Way You Lie" by Eminem and Rhianna

* * *

He woke to the stuttering friction of leather sliding against his bare wrist.

It took him a few, blinking seconds to recognize both what was wrong and what was right with this scene. He was in his bed, their bed, which was exactly where he wanted to be but nowhere remotely near where he was supposed to be. His wrist was finally, blissfully, free of the irritating plastic of an identification bracelet, which he was supposed to wear at all times. There was no Chinese water torture beep beep beep of a heart monitor ticking down his slow descent into insanity.

Axel was there.

Axel, knees planted into the mattress on either side of Roxas' hips, stretched bare-chested over the blond beneath him, focused on tying the second of Roxas' wrists to the bedposts behind them. He didn't seem to notice that Roxas was awake, leaving the smaller boy several quiet moments to study the smooth shift of taut muscles under tight, pale skin, framed in narrow hips.

Once his hands were both securely fastened to the headboard Axel settled back, resting against Roxas' thighs as though they were the redhead's own haunches. If he was surprised to see the blond awake he didn't show it in his face, pale white skin expressionless and impassive, unmarred save for the two purple drops inked into his cheeks. Absinthe eyes shone bright with defiance and conviction, challenging Roxas to protest, to complain. Roxas had never before been cowed by that particular stare, and he was not about to cave now.

"I'm not supposed to leave the hospital."

Malachite eyes narrowed. Roxas met his lover's stare with all the force he could muster, blue eyes hard despite the sunken bags and bruises surrounding them.

"You're not supposed to leave _me_," Axel hissed, narrow stare sharpening with something that Roxas, so unused to Axel looking at him with anything other than a heartbroken gaze and half melted smile, didn't immediately recognize. "You promised you wouldn't leave again. You _promised_ it would be different this time."

Anger. There was anger poisoning Axel's eyes, anger shooting sparks from within the green irises that had been Roxas' favorite color since he was four. He'd dreamed of those eyes for the first time when he was eight, dreamed of the boy attached to them when he was thirteen, stared them down over the edge of a biology textbook when they were sixteen. He'd never seen them angry like this.

Roxas twisted his wrists against the belts holding them in place above his head, struggling despite knowing it was a futile effort. He wasn't sure what he wanted his hands for, maybe to shove Axel off, maybe to pull him closer, maybe in anticipation of the tears he knew would come the moment the anger faded from Axel's bones.

"I'm not, Axe. I'm not leaving you." His voice was soft, but certainly not weak, thick with conviction and sincerity as he maintained that sizzling eye contact igniting the air between them. The redhead's breath was ragged, rasping as he snarled with anger. The hands that had been resting flat on Roxas', also bare, he just realized, chest curled into sharp claws, nails digging sharply into the nearly transparent skin.

"Liar."

"I'm not, baby. I'm no–"

"YOU'RE DYING."

Roxas flinched like Axel had slapped him hard across the face, wincing as he finally ripped his gaze away from the green fire burning in those eyes, head snapping to the side to press his cheek against the cool pillow. The words hung heavy over the bed, silence ringing in their wake as Roxas slowly turned back to face his lover again.

Axel slumped forward as the fight drained out of him in one fell swoop, forehead pressed to the smaller man's collarbone as shaking arms wrapped around pale hips. Roxas tugged uselessly against the restraints on his own arms, desperate to thread his fingers through that red hair, smooth a hand over those tense shoulders, brush a thumb across wet cheeks. He did the best he could, bowing his head enough to nuzzle his nose against the loose red strands of hair tickling his cheek.

"You're dying, Rox, you're dying and we can't do anything about it and you were just going to _leave me_ like this, leave me here alone without you and I already told you, Roxas, that I'd kill you with my bare hands if you ever tried to leave me again." Roxas tried to keep his deep, shuddering intake of breath as controlled as possible, inhaling the familiar scent of Axel's shampoo, cigarette smoke, and…

"Axel," he whispered, voice suddenly a whole different kind of desperate, "Axel, what did you do?"

"I promised. You asked me to, and I promised I would, and I keep my promises, Rox." And now that he'd smelled the gasoline on Axel's skin he noticed the faint crackling of sparks, a waft of something richer and more toxic than cigarette smoke. Roxas wrenched his wrist so hard against the belt that the leather rubbed his skin near raw, chaffing as his bony limbs.

"I didn't mean for you to…it was supposed to be just _me_, Axel. I don't want you to –"

"You selfish _bastard_." The anger was back with an alarming spark, poison eyes shooting up as Axel pushed himself off the blond's chest. "I told you you can't leave me here. You can't leave me here alone, Rox, I can't do it without you. I can't, I don't…I don't…I don't know how…" his voice broke, and whether or not he'd meant to say more Roxas would never know. He pushed himself up with as much leverage and strength as his weak body possessed, forcefully slamming his lips against his lover's, violently silencing the other man.

Axel recovered almost instantly, hands sliding up Roxas' chest to cradle his jaw, lips parting effortlessly, tongue sliding against the blond's as the other arched his back, pressing as close to the redhead as he could manage with his arms bound like that. Axel hadn't kissed him like this in months, hadn't been rough and forceful and dominating and dragging bruising palms over his skin as he bit roughly into pale flesh of Roxas' neck, reaching up to untie his wrists only after Roxas begged to be able to touch him. Roxas tangled his fingers along Axel's scalp like his red hair was a lifeline, dragging his best friend down with him as his back fell against the bed, expending every last ounce of energy he had as he poured it all into this last act, this last desperate attempt to sear their souls together.

Axel's palms burned paths down his ribs, Axel's tears trailed hot against his skin, Axel's mouth like fire against his as they sealed each apology, each profession of love and devotion and eternity like a brand between their lips. Hands clasped and tears mingled and breath was shared and the fire burning between them sparked more than the flames engulfing them.


	5. Again I Go Unnoticed

The next couple of stories, from this one through until further notice (probably a good seven or eight chapters) are all the result of a fun game I like to play called "put your iPod on shuffle and get inspired." All of these stories are unedited, unplanned, inspired in the length of one song and written in about twenty-thirty minutes. Forgive me.

* * *

**Title**: Again I Go Unnoticed  
**Characters**: Sora/Riku  
**Song**: "Again I Go Unnoticed" by Dashboard Confessional

* * *

Sora sat curled against the couch's armrest, knees tucked against his chest as he stared unseeingly at the screen in front of them. Riku sat against the opposite armrest, shoulders stiff despite his pretend attempt at looking nonchalant. The space between them was large enough to fit two people comfortably, three if they squeezed, but more important than its emptiness was the _tension_ filling it.

He thought they were past this. Thought that the time they'd spent sitting together on that dark shore, the multiple conversations they'd had both then and later, meant they were past the point of Riku feeling this awkward around him. He wasn't the naïve little boy who left Destiny Islands almost three years ago; Sora knew that life would never quite be normal again. It would have been nice, though, if Riku could trust him.

They sat in silence in the dark, both facing the television as though this was just the most fascinating movie either of them had ever seen (it wasn't). It was never like this. Riku liked to make derisive comments about the characters' stupidity, Sora liked to pick a favorite and champion him or her against Riku's commentary, Kairi was usually snuggled between them, the three of them a tangle of limbs and bodies under a single shared blanket.

Sora sighed. If Riku noticed it he didn't react, aquamarine eyes staring determinedly straight ahead. The brunet watched him from the corner of his eye, then turned fully to look the other boy dead on, abandoning all pretense of watching the movie.

How did they come to this? How much longer were they going to be like this, could there friendship withstand the pressure of the tension between them? How much longer was Riku going to avoid looking straight at him, pretend he didn't hear Sora's soft sighs, continue to spend almost every day with him but do it with a look like he was suffering a great price for his time?

"What?" Riku's voice was flat, dull, and that was far worse than when it had been spiked with vitriol, disguised in another form, resigned to a darker fate. Sora dragged one hand through his hair, palm coming to rest against the back of his neck.

"I just…you seem a little out of it tonight."

Riku rolled his eyes; it was dark in the room, but the chase scene happening on screen was taking place in broad daylight, the fake glow washing over the older boy's face with shades of blue. Sora bit back a sharp response, teeth dragging along his bottom lip. He didn't remember the last time Riku rolled his eyes at him like he was some irksome child.

"I'm just tired."

Sora nodded, scratching at the hair on the nape of his neck. Riku was full of shit, but the worst part was the fact that he didn't even try to pretend that he wasn't lying. It was like he didn't care if Sora knew that he was lying to him, like it didn't matter if Sora knew that he'd become so insignificant to Riku.

But maybe he was just tired. Kairi's absence was throwing things a little off balance already, and they'd only been back for a few weeks, maybe Riku really was just tired, maybe Sora really was just imagining things, projecting his own fears onto the situation. Maybe he would wait until tomorrow.

He stood up without a word, circumventing the couch rather than climbing over Riku's outstretched legs, and wandered into the dimly lit kitchen, opening and closing several cabinet doors before finally settling on just plain water. He even got Riku one, just for good measure, wordlessly offering it to the silver haired boy as he re-entered the living room.

Riku's fingers brushed unavoidably against his as he accepted the glass, fingertips running over his knuckles as they searched for the smooth glass surface. The older boy snatched his hand away as though he'd been burned by the contact, lips pressed in a tight, thin line as Sora stared down at him.

"What. The. Fuck." Riku ignored him, using the offending hand to shake out his bangs until they effectively obscured his eyes. "Seriously. What the fuck was that about, Riku?"

Riku didn't say a word, entire body stiff and tense as he continued to avoid Sora's searching eyes. He jumped slightly at the sound of Sora slamming the two glasses down on the coffee table, Sora's cold fingers curling under his chin and jerking his head up until the aquamarine eyes were forced to meet Sora's own lapis lazuli pair.

"Why won't you look at me, Riku? You won't look at me, you won't talk to me, you pretend like I'm not even here. You won't even touch me. And I want to know why."

"Let go of me." Riku moved his feet off the coffee table to land flat on the floor, weight shifting to launch himself to his feet, but Sora was faster. He straddled his best friend's thighs in one quick move, free arm coming up across Riku's shoulders, pressing him backwards into the couch. Riku's surprise was evident; Sora had never been the faster of the two, had never been strong enough to overpower him. If Sora was surprised at his own success he didn't show it, didn't allow for even a moment of weakness as he bore down on the boy beneath him, anger making his blue eyes hard and unforgiving.

"I searched every world I could find for you." Sora breathed at him. There was nothing sensual about it, nothing sexual in the way he was perched on Riku's lap; only pure anger and force, a soldier successfully detaining his hostage. "You literally went through hell to come back to us. Tell me why the _fuck_ we all wasted our time like this, only for you to come back here and look at me like you wish I'd left you in the darkness, because that would be a better alternative to being here with me."

"Don't – I didn't – don't you dare, Sora –"

"What am I supposed to think, then? You won't talk to me, Ri. How am I supposed to know what's wrong if you won't _tell _me?" The anger drained from Sora as quickly as it had appeared, the keyblade master sagging at the sudden loss of tension. Both hands relaxed from where they had Riku pinned, sliding instead to grip the collar of his vest.

"I can't lose you again Riku," he whispered, slumping forward to press his forehead against the older boy's silver bangs. "I won't."

The suddenness with which Sora found himself flat on his back on the couch, one of Riku's hands pressed between the small of his back and the couch, the other curled around the back of his neck, stole the breath from Sora's lungs like he'd been socked in the gut. Riku knelt over him with both knees between Sora's legs, the shorter boy's thighs still pressed just below Riku's hips.

Riku's lips were wet against his own, hot and firm and unyielding, igniting some part of his heart with a feeling like fire that he didn't really understand. Sora gasped at the sudden feeling, and Riku wasted no time in taking advantage of his parted lips, pressing closer against the smaller boy as he brazenly slid his tongue into Sora's mouth.

Sora moaned. Arched off the couch, aided by the pressure of Riku's hand on his back, the hands still fisted on Riku's collar sliding up to cup the older boy's jaw. Riku's hand had slid up into his hair, tangling in the spiky brown strands as he jerked Sora's head to the side, exposing a pale stretch of neck that he promptly attached his teeth to.

"Ungh…Riku…" Sora breathed, his hands dragging through Riku's hair, across his shoulder and down his arm, curling around a taut bicep.

The sound of his own name made Riku freeze. He pulled abruptly away from Sora's neck, staring down at the panting brunet beneath him with something that resembled horror racing across his fair features.

"Fuck."

He shoved himself away from Sora with none of his usual grace and finesse, scrambling away from the still slightly-dazed keyblade master with wide teal eyes and shaking hands. Sora dragged himself up into a half sitting position, cocking his head to the side as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Ri?"

"Fuck."

Riku was gone before Sora could get another word out, stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering to grab his shoes. Sora's arms gave way beneath him as he fell back down onto the couch, chest heaving.


	6. Dance or Die

**Title**: Dance or Die  
**Characters**: Demyx/Zexion  
**Song**: "Dance or Die" by Family Force 5

* * *

When Xigbar was stressed, he went to the shooting range and shot the shit out of everything he could get his hands on. When Sora was stressed he'd go to the gym and beat the shit out of whatever practice dummy he could find. When Axel was stressed he'd go find Roxas, who was always stressed. When Roxas was stressed he'd pick a fight with Axel until one or the other of them threw the other down and fucked the shit out of him.

When Demyx was stressed, he went to the nearest club and danced until his legs felt like jelly, until he couldn't throw back another drink without regurgitating half the bottle of booze back onto the bar, or until his wallet was empty. He always went alone; he wasn't there to hang out with friends, and he wasn't really there to pick anyone up. He was just there to dance, to burn off whatever was driving him up the wall by sweating it out in a drunken haze on the dance floor.

Tonight was different. Tonight had been different from the very second he stepped into the club, a new one, a few blocks further than his usual joint, and discovered that the patrons seemed to be predominantly male. Beautiful, incredibly well built, mostly half-naked males, to be completely honest.

Tonight was different, because tonight had led him out onto a dance floor where nobody was dancing with just one person, where everyone was dancing with whomever the hell they wanted, hips pressed against one man while an arm wrapped back around another, shirtless and glistening with sweat and Demyx didn't really care that there was a tongue working its way down his neck or that a completely different man was tugging his hips forward even as his head fell back against the shoulder of the man sucking on his neck.

Both men disappeared with a suddenness that snapped Demyx out of his drunken-dance-haze, blinking dazedly at the figure standing in front of him with both arms crossed over his chest, one visible eyebrow raised by the same judgmental sneer lifting the corner of his lip.

What the fuck Zexion was doing at a bar, particularly at an extremely crowded gay bar, Demyx couldn't possibly begin to guess. Last he'd checked Zexion was straighter than a ruler, much to his chagrin. That was, he vaguely remembered in some corner of his alcohol-soaked brain, the very thing that drove him out tonight; Zexion and his perpetual heterosexuality.

The gray-haired man tossed back what remained of the drink Demyx hadn't noticed in his hand, wiping his wrist across glistening lips before depositing the empty glass on a nearby ledge. Without further ado, without so much as a single word even, Zexion closed the space between them with two steps, hooking two fingers from each hand through the belt loops of Demyx' low slung jeans, tugging the blond the rest of the distance between their hips.

Zexion must be shit-faced, stupid drunk, that was the only way any of this made any sense to Demyx. Zexion must be so deep into a bottle of his favorite Bacardi that he forget minor little details like his sexuality, his absolute abhorrence of dancing, and his occasionally stifling sense of dignity. There was no other possible explanation for why he was grinding shamelessly against Demyx like that, dragging his hands up from the blond's hips to slid around his neck. He had to stand up on his toes to reach Demyx' ear, leaning heavily against the taller man's bare chest.

"You want to dance?" He hissed. His lips brushed against the soft cartilage, eliciting a barely audible groan from the blond man. "Then dance with me."

"I thought," Demyx could barely gasp the words out; the first brush of lips might have been accidental, but there was no way Zexion was _accidentally_ sucking on that delicate little patch of skin right behind his ear. "I thought…you hated dancing…"

"If you think," Zexion growled, pausing to drag the rough surface of his tongue along the shell of Demyx' ear, "that I'm going to just stand here all night and watch you whore yourself out to everyone else on the dance floor…"

Demyx' defensive retort was cut short by the sudden press of Zexion's lips against his own, and there was nothing shy or uncertain about the way the gray haired man bit down on Demyx' bottom lip, swallowing his subsequent gasp in his own open mouth.

This was unreal. This moment was unreal, it was clearly some kind of horrible combination of delusion, fantasy, and hallucination, probably the hideous result of a spiked drink or something equally dastardly. Demyx didn't particularly care. He had one arm around Zexion's narrow waist and the other hand fisted in the man's charcoal hair, fighting to see who would force the other into a more submissive kiss first, and all the while they were both still dancing, hips moving steadily to the bass pounding through the club. Maybe this was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, or maybe it was something more ominous, like a sign of the imminent apocalypse, but for now he couldn't give a damn.

"When are you going to realize," Zexion whispered against his lips, and despite the sheer mass of noise surrounding them Demyx had no problem hearing him, "that you're _mine_?"

The end of the world? Bring it on.


	7. Everybody's Fool

**Title**: Everybody's Fool  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence

* * *

"You _lied_ to me."

"Technically, I didn't really lie…I just didn't tell you."

"A lie by omission is still a fucking lie, Axel. You _lied_. How could you?"

"I had to."

"Bullshit."

"I had to, Rox. I couldn't tell you."

"Fuck you, you knew how much this meant to me."

"That's exactly _why_ I couldn't tell you. You'd have been out of here as fast as you could summon your damn keyblades, and trust me when I tell you that it's _not_ a can of worms you want to be opening."

"You selfish bastard, who are you to make that decision for me?"

"I _love_ you, asshole. You think I'm going to help you go off on some suicide mission? You won't come back from this and you know it."

"You aren't capable of being in love with me."

"I love you. I fucking love you, Roxas, and don't you dare tell me what I can or can't feel, because I know you feel it too. Don't do this. Don't go."

"No one would miss me."

"That's not true and you know it. I would."

"Stop _lying_."

"I'm not lying to you. You can't go. You can't leave me."

"You think I don't see right through you and your manipulative little bullshit, Axe? You play every single person in this Organization like their your own personal band of instruments, lying and sneaking around and collapsing the group from the inside out just so you and your so-called friend can sit pretty on your fucking pedestals."

"I'm not…Roxas…"

"You think you have everyone fooled, Axel, but you're wrong. You're the fool, you're Saïx' little puppet, Xemnas' fucking henchman. You can't play me the way you play the rest of them, I know you too well."

"Rox, please, please just listen –"

"I'm leaving. You can't stop me."


	8. Konstantine

**There is a very important author's note at the bottom of this one. Please take two seconds and read it.  
**

**

* * *

Title**: Konstantine  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Konstantine" by Something Corporate

* * *

You stumble toward the door of your apartment with eyes still half-closed, free hand scratching lethargically against the bare skin of your ribs as you slid the three deadbolts out of place, yanking the door open only far enough to pull the wood away from the knocker's incessantly rapping knuckles.

The sight of the figure standing in front of you, pale and blond, slight and shaking, wet hair plastered to his cheeks as his extended arm slides back down around his shivering torso, making a piss-poor attempt at holding himself together jolts you out of your semi-conscious state like an electric shot.

"Roxas?"

The sight of those lapis lazuli eyes staring back into yours for the first time in weeks (four months, 13 days and maybe 4 hours, not that you've been keeping track) killed whatever other thoughts were struggling to form themselves into words, rendering you just as speechless as the dripping wet boy in front of you. He reeks of beer and cigarette smoke, but you can tell from the sharp clarity in his eyes that it's more a sign of where his night has taken him than an indication of his current mental state.

You're not entirely sure that you want to let him in, not entirely sure that you don't want to just slam the door in his face, lock every single lock the damn thing has, and crawl back into bed with the nearest and fullest bottle of liquor, drinking until you mistake this midnight intrusion for a bad dream. He knows it too, he knows…he knew you, well enough that he can read the look in your eyes now and steel himself for the inevitable thud of the door closing.

He lifts his chin, ready for the rejection as your grip on the door knob shifts, but the movement sheds new light on his face, specifically the half that's so swollen his eye is nearly closed, the whole cheekbone a bruised shade of purple that matches the dark triangles on your own cheeks. You can see a bloody cut on the apple of his swollen cheek, right about where a ring would land if someone swung a right hook at the side of your face.

You step back without a word, swinging the door open wide enough to let him inside. He heads straight for the small bathroom, pointedly avoiding his reflection in the mirror as he stands dripping on the bath mat. It strikes you as oddly polite that he's waiting for you to offer him a towel, knowing full well that he knows exactly where they are, could easily help himself to as many as he liked. It's nice that he respects your privacy enough not to help himself to your things, despite the fact that that respect clearly doesn't extend to showing up at your door in the middle of the night without so much as a word since the day he walked out on you.

The sight of him shaking is starting to actually hurt, though, so you move quickly to the small supply of towels, wrapping one tightly around his shoulders and dropping the second on the counter next to his hip.

"Get out of these wet clothes," you tell him. "I'll go find you something dry to wear." There's still an entire drawer full of his clothes in the bottom of your dresser, but you like to pretend that it doesn't exist, and he always liked wearing your clothes to lounge around in anyway. Roxas doesn't look surprised when you come back with a pair of your own too-small sweatpants, boxers, a clean white t-shirt, and a sweatshirt from the college you met at.

He's stripped down to nothing; there's no point in acting bashful about it, it's not like you didn't spend the better part of two years coming up with as many excuses as possible to strip him naked every chance you got. The pile of wet clothes on the floor catches your attention first, you should put those in the dryer, but that particular train of thought dies at the sight of his exposed torso.

Roxas' body looks like a Picasso painting in varying shades of blue, purple, green, and yellow, a horrifying collage of bruises of various sizes, shades, and degrees of healing. He catches sight of the stricken look on your face and closes his eyes, bringing one hand up to rub the skin above his good eye.

"Don't look at me like that." He pleads. You don't even know what to say; all you can think of doing is gathering him up in your arms and not letting him go, never letting him leave the apartment again if that's what it takes, but you're scared to even touch him with that much damage done to his ribs and chest. You hold the clean clothes out wordlessly, unable to tear your eyes away from him as his movement reveals even more bruises.

"Do you want anything to drink?" You finally ask, only after he's pulled the sweatshirt hood up over his wet hair, hiding most of his face in the process. "Something hot, something strong, anything?"

"Hot chocolate would be great," Roxas murmurs, just like you knew he would. You leave him alone in the bathroom, taking his wet clothes and the damp towels with you, depositing them in the dryer before continuing on to the kitchen. Preparing the two drinks gives you enough time to stop and think away from his all-too-observant eyes.

After almost five months without a word Roxas showed up at your door, obviously having walked here from, if you're right about who he's currently living with, a couple dozen blocks uptown, looking like somebody's own personal punching bag. You've spent the last five months vacillating between raging over his betrayal and sobbing over his absence, but never in a million years did you imagine that your reaction to his reappearance would be _horror_.

Roxas has wedged himself into what used to be his corner of the couch, cocooned in the t-shirt quilt Naminé had helped him make for your first anniversary, a collection of tour shirts from all the different concerts you two had been to. It kills you to see him back here, back in this spot like he'd never left, like the last five months had been some hideously awful nightmare. You almost believe it is for a second, almost crawl across the couch to put your head in his lap and tell him all about it, but when he turns at the sound of your approach you catch sight of his black eye again, and you realize that the nightmare part of the story is happening right now.

"I won't blame you if you tell me I deserve it."

You stare at him like he just offered to kill all your closest friends for you, something aghast and offended burning in the way you glare down at him.

"How could you even say that?" You're genuinely offended; he knows you better than that. "How could you ever think even for a second that I would say something like that to you?"

"You have to admit there's a certain sense of cosmic justice here. Karma, if you will. I betrayed you in the worst way imaginable, threw away the best thing that ever happened to me, and now get the shit beat out of me on a regular basis by the guy I left you for. Somewhere in the universe a cosmic scale is balancing itself out right now."

"Don't, Roxas." You can't bear to hear the blasé way he talks about it, the casual ease with which he reminds you that he ripped your heart to pieces and then stomped all over them makes you sick. He's never been much of a sadist though, always fell more along the masochistic side of the spectrum, and it's because of that that you know that he's affecting such a cavalier tone for his own self-depreciation, not yours.

"It wasn't always this bad."

"Don't defend him. Have you looked in a fucking mirror lately?"

"He hasn't been the same since Sora went missing. He drinks a lot, tells me it's my fault for looking so much like him." You don't understand how he can sit here and say these things and not realize how bad they sound, not realize how much those two sentences alone make you want to beat Riku until he looks twice as bad as Roxas does now.

"Maybe if he doesn't want to be reminded of Sora he shouldn't be fucking his twin brother." Roxas flinches on the word fucking, and you're bitterly glad it makes him uncomfortable to hear you say it like that.

"Why are you still with him?"

Roxas opens his mouth, hopefully to offer a really excellent argument (doubtful), but you cut him off.

"I'm not saying I expect you to come back to me. I just don't understand why you haven't gotten the hell out of there. Why are you with him? I've seen you smack around guys twice your size, what the hell are you still doing playing Riku's Punching Bag?" Roxas flinches again, and it's only then that you realize you've raised your voice to the point where you're almost yelling at him. It breaks your heart all over again to see the way he's reacting; the Roxas you knew would never have been cowed by a little volume control, would never have let you yell at him like that without immediately turning around and laying it right back into you.

"I'd come home in a second, if I could. If I thought you'd take me back. Don't you know I've missed you, Axel? Don't you know how much I miss you every, single day? God, I miss you." Roxas keeps trying to catch your eye but you can't look at him, green eyes darting anywhere and everywhere that isn't Roxas' face.

"Then what's stopping you?" You know that look, the one that blooms across Roxas' face for the first few seconds after your response. It's the same look he always wore right before knocking aside whatever was currently occupying your lap and crawling in to take its place, burying his face in the crook of your neck in an effort to fix whatever he was hiding from.

"He needs me, Axe. He's a wreck over Sora, he keeps blaming himself. I can't leave him alone like this."

"He…he fucking…Roxas, _I_ need you. That didn't stop you from leaving me."

You don't remember sitting down, but suddenly Roxas is right there, right next to you on the couch, looking at you with blue eyes so sad they bring you to tears. One of his hands is already on your jaw, thumb brushing soft strokes across your cheek, and you want to hit him for daring to touch you, but you'll die before you let another person raise so much as a finger at him ever again.

"You never needed me, baby. Not nearly as much as you think you do. Not nearly as much as I need you." It's like breaking up all over again, only this time it's so much worse, because last time you could hate him for cheating on you, hate him for sleeping with your best friend, his own brother's boyfriend, hate him for ruining everything that was important to you, but this time all you can do is cry at the way he's looking at you like you still own his heart, cry at the way your best friend has become a raging alcoholic nightmare, cry at the shambles of your relationship crumbling to pieces in front of you.

"I'm not letting you go back to him." You've always known your biggest weakness is your fiercely overprotective loyalty. It doesn't matter if he comes back to you or not, there's no way in hell you're letting Riku anywhere near him until he's clean, sober, and groveling on his knees begging for forgiveness. "Not a chance. Not like this."

From the way he smiles at you you know this is exactly what he was hoping you'd say, know that there's a little part of him that was planning this, that knew you'd help him because you couldn't say no, but that's okay.

"See," he whispers, "I'm the one that needs you Axel."

But you know he's wrong, know this even as he finally leans forward and curls himself against you, because if you didn't need him you would have slammed that door shut in his face half an hour ago, and no matter what he says to the contrary, you know you'll always need him more than he ever needed you.

* * *

**Note: **first of all, anything I know about abusive relationships is strictly from books I've read…please don't fault me on that in any way, I'm not trying to be insensitive or inaccurate or naïve or anything like that. Secondly, as a personal disclaimer: _Riku and Axel are my two favorite characters in the game. I LOVE Riku._ When I write these I literally let them write themselves, and Riku seemed like the logical person for Roxas to cheat on Axel with. I'll happily defend myself if you want to message me and talk about it. Just know that I love Riku.


	9. The Truth About Heaven

**This story is both disjointed and excessively emo. whoops.**

* * *

Title: The Truth About Heaven  
**Characters**: Demyx/Zexion  
**Song**: "The Truth About Heaven" by Armor for Sleep

* * *

Demyx sank to the floor as though he had lost control of his limbs, weight giving out slowly as his shaking legs deposited him onto the cold marble floor.

He'd never had much reason to pass through here before; avoided it, really, but communication with those of them that had been sent to Castle Oblivion had been strictly prohibited, and he had no other way of checking up on Zexion. Besides, the bastard was a paranoid little jerk, locking his bedroom six ways to Sunday, and had coded his doorway so that only he himself, and as a recent edition, Demyx, could gain entry.

It was clear to Demyx the second he wandered in here, wanting nothing more than to use the doorway to slip into Zexion's room and sleep somewhere where no one could bother him until he was good and ready, that entering Zexion's room was probably a thing of the past. This registered first, a mere observation of his surroundings, before the proper understanding hit him as realization sank like a stone through his empty chest.

Zexion's marker wasn't the first to transform from proof of life to memorial; Vexen's and Lexaeus' had already cracked, and Demyx had been in here when Larxene's spontaneously crumbled to pieces, burning red consuming the previously neon blue glow. Zexion's, though, was the first that mattered.

"You absolute _bastard_."

Demyx reached one hand out to brush aside the ruined stoned covering the floor, the stone archway shattered into so many pieces that he could barely see the half-open book burned into the marble.

"How could you do this to me?"

Zexion had never been one to pretend to have emotions the rest of them could lay no claim to. The way he told it he'd never been much of an emotional person even when he was a child, alive and whole and Ienzo, and it didn't take much for Demyx to believe that. Zexion had never humored Demyx' irrational desire to insist they had feelings, so he knew that were Zexion here, were it possible for Zexion to actually respond to his desperate pleading, the Cloaked Schemer would have done nothing more than crossed his arms and frowned at the blond, admonishing him to get off his knees and stop being so melodramatic.

They'd been sleeping together for a long time; Demyx didn't keep track of trivial things like how much time had passed since he'd died, but he knew that Zexion had first thrown him into a wall and kissed him like he was dying sometime after Luxord arrived but before Larxene had appeared. Zexion had always made it clear that it was purely sexual, always insisted that even if he wanted to, he didn't have a way of feeling anything for Demyx. Demyx had never bothered deluded himself into thinking anything to the contrary, had assumed that his "feelings" for his superior were and always would be unrequited, that there was no point in even pretending otherwise, until the very last night Zexion spent in the castle before leaving for his final mission.

He'd appeared in Demyx' room, something he had _never_ done before, and before the Melodious Nocturne could so much as express his surprise Zexion had him flat on his back on the bed, swallowing Demyx' surprised moan between parted lips. Sex with Zexion was always like this; sudden and unexpected, hungry and desperate and needy, and Demyx was all about ready to chalk up the abnormality to Zexion just being too damn horny to wait for the blond to come find him. He'd been all for that option, right up until a completely spent Zexion collapsed on top of him, rolled carefully to the side of the bed, wrapped one arm around Demyx' waist, and pulled the blankets over them.

Zexion never cuddled, never allowed Demyx to spend the night, on the rare occasion that they ever even made it to a bed. Cuddling was for humans with emotions, Zexion had told Demyx once, and since he had neither humanity nor emotions he had no reason to cuddle.

He spent the night in Demyx' bed, curled around the wide-eyed blond like a damn cat, and woke him up the following morning with what was undoubtedly the most gentle, most _emotional_ sex they'd ever had. Zexion waited until they were both tangled together and halfway towards sleeping to tell Demyx that he was leaving on an undisclosed mission for an undisclosed period of time in less than three hours.

"Come back." Demyx had pleaded, fingers wrapped around the bare stretch of skin between Zexion's glove and his coat sleeve as Number Six turned to leave. "Come back to me, if you want to, but more importantly just come back."

Zexion had turned back with an alarming speed, cupping Demyx' face with both hands and kissing him with the kind of desperation that was born from agony, not lust.

"I'll come back to you," he whispered, exhalations ghosting across Demyx' shaking lips. "I promise."

Deep down, Demyx knew he didn't really have the capacity he'd once had for love, didn't have the ability to offer his heart and soul to another person. He knew it in his mind, had difficulty avoiding it, on a bad day, but as he knelt on the ground in front of what was now effectively Zexion's grave, eyes burning with a sensation he vaguely remembered from his life, fingers trembling as he pressed them against his lips, Demyx _felt_ something.


	10. Dog Days Are Over

I have been told that this is supposed to be a happy song. I disagree wholeheartedly.

* * *

**Title**: Dog Days Are Over  
**Characters**: Sora/Riku  
**Song**: "Dog Days Are Over" by Florence and the Machine 

* * *

Riku was tense even in his sleep. He'd been calmer since they returned from within the darkness, less angry and impulsive, more passive and level headed, but even in his serenity he held his shoulders in a tight line, aquamarine eyes constantly alert. Even sleeping, here in his own bed, completely unaware of the fact that anyone was in his room, Riku slept with stiff arms and clenched fists, right hand ready to summon Way to the Dawn.

Sora was certain that his mere presence in Riku's bedroom would have the older boy leaping bolt upright in seconds, keyblade pressed against his neck before Riku was even consciously aware of being awake, but for some reason the silver haired teen remained motionless on his bed. Sora liked to tell himself that it was because Riku was so comfortable with him that even his subconscious wasn't disturbed by Sora's presence. Realistically, Riku was probably just a heavier sleeper than Sora gave him credit for.

Still, it was with an over-exaggerated amount of caution that Sora crept closer to the narrow twin bed, nervously leaning forward to hover over his best friend. Up close, just looking at his face, Riku looked almost peaceful. Silver hair spilling over a soft white pillow, spiky bangs draped messily over his eyes, barely dusting his cheeks. Riku was always beautiful, and Sora had known that since before he was even _aware_ that he knew it, but here draped across his bed, half-hidden in shadow, deadly even in his sleep, Riku was ethereal.

"There's a gummi ship outside," Sora whispered. "Donald and Goofy are on it, waiting for me to go with them to Radiant Gardens. I know you wanted to come, but..."

Riku's breathing hadn't changed, he hadn't so much as twitched at the sound of Sora's voice, which gave Sora enough confidence to reach down and gently brush the hair off Riku's face, fingers ghosting over his pale skin.

"If you come with me, I could lose you again. I can't lose you again, Ri. Once was awful, twice nearly destroyed me...I refuse to go through it again. If you're here you can't get lost. If you're here I know where you are, know that you'll still be here when I come home again."

It was only because Riku was asleep, only because Riku had apparently proven that he was such a deep sleeper that he wouldn't wake up, that Sora had no fear about leaning forward to close the rest of the distance between them, pressing a careful kiss against the older boy's brow.

"I can't bring you with me, Riku. I have to leave you behind. You'll give me something to come home to."

Riku waited until after Sora had slipped back out the window before opening his eyes, aquamarine eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling.


	11. Everything Went Numb

**Title**: Everything Went Numb  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Everything Went Numb" by Streetlight Manifesto

* * *

They ran through the plans countless times. None of them were foolish enough to say it was fool proof, and none of them had enough hubris to believe that they were above such preparations. They ran through the plans dozens upon dozens of times, until each of them could recite on command, from any given starting point, not only his or her role in the plot but any other member's involvement from start to finish.

Axel and Roxas had been assigned to surveillance and getaway car, two parts convenience and one part appearance. Axel could drive the getaway van like the hounds of hell were nipping at his bumper without breaking a sweat, but his unnatural appearance, from untamable red hair and envy green eyes to a freakishly tall stature to incredibly distinctive tattoos on his face, Axel was far too easy to pick out of a lineup. He did his best work behind a wheel and tinted windows, eyes and tats hidden under his favorite pair of wayfarers, black hood pulled up over his crazy spikes.

Roxas, for his part, was the token child technology prodigy, brilliant and barely legal, able to hack into something like, say, the entire security system of a building with not much more than his cell phone and a slightly personalized iPod. His role in the heist consisted of him cracking the bank's virtual security system as much as possible without requiring the assistance of the bank personnel; that was what the rest of the team was for.

They'd gone over it more times than any of them could possibly count, but that didn't make nervous buzz in Axel's chest any less intense as he sat parked in his non-descript black van one and half blocks away from the bank; as far away as possible while still being close enough to A. get there in under ten seconds if need be, and B. keep Roxas in range. Roxas would be the first of them to enter the bank, the perfect image of a sullen teenager in a Hollow Bastion High Swim Team sweatshirt, hood over his platinum hair, earbuds in his ear, scowling at his cell phone as he sent what appeared to be appropriately angsty texts.

Roxas was supposed to leave the van at 2:13, and it was 2:10 now, the pair of them huddled in the back of the windowless van, Roxas doing last minute tweaks on his iPod, Axel making no effort to hide the way he was staring at the blond as though trying to memorize his face.

"Rox," Axel cleared his throat slightly, inwardly wincing at how shaky his voice sounded. He'd been the one who had brought Roxas into the operation, his childhood best friend who had always been a technological god. When Xemnas said they needed someone who could crack the online security system Roxas had become the most valuable member of their entire organization, but it wasn't until _right now_ that Axel realized how _dangerous_ being a vital part of the equation was.

Roxas only half glanced at him, fingers still sliding over the surface of his touch screen mp3 player. Axel frowned. He didn't want to interrupt the blond if this was something important, but he couldn't shake the lurking feeling that this entire operation was going to go down in flames, that Roxas was three minutes away from walking away from Axel for the last time. 2:11. Make that two minutes.

"Roxas," he said again, louder this time. Roxas glanced up, fingers stilling on the iPod when he caught sight of the look on Axel's face. He cocked his head to the side questioningly, pulling one earbud out of his ears in order to better hear the redhead.

"At the risk of sounding like some hideous rom com/action/date night movie," Axel stumbled over the words, tumbling them out of his mouth as fast as he could, before he had a chance to change his mind, "there's something I really, really need to say to you before you potentially go off and get yourself blown up, shot through with a thousand bullets, or thrown in jail for an indefinite period of time."

2:12, since when had he become such a longwinded motherfucker, if the entire plan went to shit because Roxas left late, and if Roxas left late because _Axel_ _was being a pussy_, he'd never let himself live it down. At least, not for the four and a half hours of "living it down" time he'd have before whatever remained of the organization hunted him down and killed him.

He clearly didn't have time for words and actions, and he'd always been a big advocate of that whole "actions speak louder than words" theory, so with 45 seconds to spare Axel reached forward and grabbed Roxas by the collar of his sweatshirt, hauling the smaller boy close enough for him to lean down as press their lips together. Roxas remained motionless for all of 3.5 seconds before fisting a hand in the red hair and pulling himself in closer, as close as possible in the tight space inside the van.

Axel broke the kiss first, one eye still on his watch despite the decidedly erotic sight of Roxas' staring at him with swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. 2:12:47.

"You need to get going." Axel insisted, catching the swinging earbud and pressing it into the slightly-dazed blond's free hand. "Just wanted to make sure you had some incentive to come back alive."


	12. Wake Up

**I've been kind of a dick to Axel and Roxas so far in this collection, so the next few auroku are going to be better. Promise.**

* * *

Title: Wake Up  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Wake Up" by Coheed and Cambria

* * *

"I still don't understand why you have to go." They were beyond the point of arguing, really. It wasn't as if Axel expected to get his way now; they were already at the airport, Roxas' boarding pass clutched between pale fingers, a small duffle bag between his feet. Most of his things had already been sent ahead earlier this week, and he was going to buy all his bedding and dorm necessities and shit once he got there. His whole life was neatly packed up in smart little boxes in his smart little dorm room at his smart little college halfway across this world, and he wasn't going to change his mind. Axel was just arguing for the sake of arguing now.

"And I still don't understand why you won't even consider coming." Roxas replied stubbornly, almost reflexively. They'd had this conversation hundreds of times in the last six months, the blond could practically recite it in his sleep. He wasn't looking at his boyfriend, focused instead on scanning the thick paper in his hands for his gate number.

Axel didn't bother answering. They'd been over this a dozen times. Axel wasn't college material, Axel had no interest in furthering his education, Axel didn't have the money to pay for a school like RGU, to live in a city like Radiant Gardens. Axel's parents needed him here, his dad needed someone to help him in the family's autobody shop, his mom needed someone to fuss over ever since Reno had moved out. He was comfortable in the small, quiet little town they'd grown up in, content enough to spend every day of the rest of his life perched on the roof of the clock tower, Roxas' leaning back against his chest as they watched the sunset.

Roxas, though, Roxas was the opposite in every way. Roxas had always been too big for Twilight Town, too smart, to adventurous, too desperate to find all the answers he was looking for. Roxas' parents had the money to send him anywhere he wanted to go, and didn't particularly like their son enough to care about how far he wanted to travel, and he had the grades to get into almost any and every school he applied to. Radiant Gardens University was the best of the best, the dream school Roxas had been talking about since they were old enough to know what college was, back when they were still just best friends with stars in their eyes when they talked about the future.

"You should get going," Axel said quietly, after almost a whole minute had gone by without them so much as looking at each other. "You still need to get through security, and it's an hour until your boarding call."

Roxas still wouldn't look at him, busying himself with folding and refolding his boarding pass into the perfect pocket-size square before unceremoniously shoving it into his back pocket, effectively ruining the entire job. Axel watched with a frown on his usually calm face, one eyebrow raised as Roxas fumbled with everything and anything that helped him avoid the redhead's stare.

They'd been best friends since they were six, both seated in the same time out corner of their first grade classroom. They were inseparable until they were fifteen, when Axel unceremoniously planted his lips square on his best friend's and earned himself a blow to the jaw in return. A full month passed by before Axel opened his bedroom door one night to find Roxas standing there, jaw set and blue eyes determined. The blond called him an asshole, punched him again just for good measure, and then caught him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him in for their first _real_ kiss. After that they took inseparable to a whole new level.

This was the first time they were going to be apart for more than ten days since then.

"It's not going to be that bad, Rox." Axel promised. He didn't know when he'd taken on this sudden role as motivator; he'd spent so many months telling Roxas why he shouldn't go that it felt odd now to be the one nudging his boyfriend towards the security gate, one hand reaching down for the duffle on the floor between them. "It's not. We both have webcams, and we'll text all the time. Besides, you'll be home for fall break in six weeks, it'll go so fast you won't even have time to miss me."

Roxas didn't say a word. Cerulean eyes stayed glued to the tops of his kelly green chucks, the ones Axel had bought him for his birthday last year and promptly graffitied with Roxas' favorite song lyrics. With an impatient sigh Axel slipped two fingers under the blond's chin and tilted the shorter boy's head until he was forced to look at the redhead, stubbornly doing his best to avoid the malachite eyes even now.

"Tell me to stay."

Roxas' stare was, despite the direction of his jaw, somewhere in the general direction of Axel's ribcage, and for that reason alone the redhead feared that the other boy might have actually witnessed Axel's heart stop. He stared down at his best friend with uncomprehending eyes, frowning even further at the blond in front of him.

Slowly, Roxas lifted one hand to rest on Axel's hip, two fingers slighting through the belt loop of the taller boy's slightly too big jeans.

"Tell me to stay, Axel, and I will."

He would do anything for Roxas. Anything. He would kill a man, rob a bank, steal a car, and drive thirty six hours straight if that's what it took to get to Roxas in Radiant Gardens, but the one thing he knew he wouldn't do was deny his best friend this chance. Roxas would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't go, and Axel would never be able to live with himself if he was the reason Roxas stayed. He shook his head.

"You have to go. You're going to go, and you're going to have an amazing time and you're going to tell me all about it on the phone every night, and it's going to be okay." Roxas tugged him closer with the hand laced through his jeans, wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend's waist and pressing his forehead to his sternum.

"I love you."

Axel threaded one hand through the blond hair, scratching through the baby-soft strands with the blunt edges of his nails. They had agreed that they wouldn't make a big scene of things in the airport; neither of them liked big dramatic goodbyes, and besides, this wasn't goodbye, just see you later. They'd had their moment last night, Axel sneaking out of his house and sliding into Roxas' bed, forehead's pressed together so they could blame the tear tracks on the other boy, or on the sweat from their previous activities. The airport was just a formality, something they both knew they needed to sink the reality of the situation in.

"I love you too, Rox." Axel leaned down to press a kiss to Roxas' forehead, lips falling right along the blond's hairline. "Now get your ass on that damn plane, and don't forget to call me the second you land so I know you made it okay."

"Promise." Roxas held on for just a second too long, just long enough that Axel closed his eyes and tilted his head up towards the brightly lit ceiling, forcefully willing away the prickling in the corner of his eyes. He felt, rather than saw, Roxas finally pull away, stepping back enough that the redhead could no longer feel the shorter boy's presence.

They didn't actually say goodbye. Roxas hoisted his duffle bag over one shoulder, waved, forced half a smile onto his face, and walked away, shoulders tense under the strap of his bag. Axel, for his part, did his best to pretend that he hadn't seen the way Roxas' eyes were just as wet as his own, and purposefully turned on his heel and strode away rather than watch his best friend join the short queue for the security gate.

He made it as far as a bench in the baggage claim before slowly sinking down to sit on the hard plastic, hands shaking even as he clenched his fists. Roxas was gone. Roxas was gone, and he had let the boy go, literally insisted that he get on the plane that would take him several thousand miles away from the one boy who loved him more than anyone else in the entire world. Axel knew he'd been right in letting Roxas go, knew he had to go, but that wasn't really even the worst of it.

The worst part was that Axel knew that Roxas wasn't coming back. Sure, he'd be home for fall break, and then Thanksgiving, and maybe he'd even come home for the winter holidays too. But then he'd wind up on some Alternative School Break service trip to build homes for underprivileged families in Destiny Islands during spring break, or taking a summer class or two that allowed him to stay in the dorms over the summer. Roxas would fall in love with the city, with the freedom from his parents and the openness that he'd never found in Twilight Town, with the excitement and the newness and, eventually, with the comfort of being in a city he knew and loved, a city that was always changing, a place he would always have more to learn about. Roxas was going to love Radiant Gardens, and Axel knew that eventually, it would be more like home to him than Twilight Town had ever been.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been sitting there until he glanced at the giant clock on the wall and realized with a horrible blow to the gut that Roxas' plane had taken off fifteen minutes ago.

He was really gone.

Axel panicked for all of about a minute. Really, he'd done his panicking already. Done his share of freaking out the day that Roxas admitted that he mailed the application in, in secret again later when Roxas got his acceptance letter, and yet again when he'd sent his deposit in. Axel had done more than enough panicking in the last six months, which was why it didn't surprise him when the strange sense of calm crashed over him less than a minute after he realized the time. Slowly, as though it were a perfectly reasonable thing to do, Axel stood up and crossed the large room to the flight check in window, pulling out his wallet and fingering his credit card, his emergency card that his parents had insisted was _strictly_ for emergency use only.

He'd pay them back when he had a chance.

"When's the next flight to Radiant Gardens?" The pretty redhead behind the counter smiled at him as she typed a few keystrokes across the keyboard, frowning lightly at the screen.

"I'm afraid you just missed one, sir. There's one last flight leaving for the city tonight, but it's not for another four hours."

"That's fine, I'll take it." Axel slid his credit card slowly across the counter. The redhead smiled at him again, silent save for the click of the mouse on the screen.

"Round trip, or one way?"

"One way."


	13. A Favor House Atlantic

**two Coheed in a row. whoops.**

* * *

Title: A Favor House Atlantic  
**Characters**: Axel, Riku, Zexion  
**Song**: "A Favor House Atlantic" by Coheed and Cambria

* * *

"You have to understand, Zexion," Axel said casually, shrugging one shoulder lightly, "it's really nothing personal."

"Speak for yourself," Riku grunted. He stood stock still at the redhead's side despite the jostling movement of Axel's shoulder against his own. The silver haired man barely shifted; the revolver he balanced calmly between his hands remained perfectly level, aimed straight between Zexion's eyes.

"Ignore him," Axel said fondly, waving his free hand at his best friend. "Riku holds a grudge like it's his job, but really, he doesn't mean it. It's just...well...you've seen too much man."

"You don't have to explain it to him, Ax." Riku hissed at him through gritted teeth, as though it was killing him just being in the same room as Zexion. The charcoal-haired man looked back and forth between the two assailants, royal blue eyes wider than usual, surprise and the edges of panic marring the normally expressionless face.

"Of course I do, Ri, it's rude to just up and kill the man without so much as a reason why."

"You don't have to kill me." Zexion's voice gave nothing away, quiet and monotonous, exactly the same as it always was. Neither of them were fooled; they'd been able to see the fear in those blue eyes for almost a month now, ever since he'd heard the news of the freak explosion in Vexen's lab that had killed the older scientist. "You don't. I have no reason to tell anyone anything I've seen or heard during my time here."

"Pftt," Riku scoffed, "like we'd actually believe that. You're too much of a goody goody, you'd go straight off to Xemnas in a heartbeat, just because you're too scared of breaking the rules."

"I swear I wouldn't." Zexion's voice shook only slightly. "I wouldn't."

"You might not," Axel agreed. "But you would tell Dem. You can't keep anything from him. And Dem would squeal like a stuck pig, especially if it meant saving your ass from suffering Xemnas' wrath."

"Demyx!" Zexion gasped, grasping his lover's name like a lifeline he'd just been thrown from the heavens. "He's one of your best friends, Axel. How can you look him in the eye knowing you killed me?"

"Demyx has already been informed of your death," Riku snarled unkindly. "He took it fairly well, from what I heard. Besides." And here he shook the gun slightly, reaching one finger up to unlock the safety, "Axel's not the one with a gun leveled at your head, is he?"

"Riku, then, please –"

"The unfortunate truth, Zex," Axel sighed, "is that you're standing almost directly between Riku and Sora. And I don't know if you've noticed, but Riku's pretty Machiavellian when it comes to getting to Sora. Sure, he's usually more into doing his dirty work from the shadows while I'm the in your face guy, but this seemed like the job to join forces on, yeah?"

"Why?" Zexion's voice was barely above a whisper now. He looked resigned, broken. The young scientist was a brilliant man despite his age; he knew the truth in Axel's words just as well as he knew the look in Riku's aquamarine eyes. No one stood in Riku's way when it came to Sora and lived to talk about it.

"Simple. Where you find Sora..."

"...you find Roxas."

"Got it memorized?"

Zexion's ocean eyes fell closed long before he even heard the faint click of Riku's finger tensing on the trigger, face already devoid of color and emotion by the time the bullet drilled through his forehead. Heaven help the man who tried to stop these two from reaching their targets.


	14. Damn Regret

The prequel-ish-type-thing to "Wake Up."

* * *

Title: Damn Regret  
Characters: Axel, Roxas  
Song: "Damn Regret" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

* * *

Axel stared at the ceiling unseeingly, malachite eyes motionless save the requisite blinking every few seconds. He was bored. Bored, with a capital B Bored. In fact, Bored didn't even begin to cover it. He was dying a slow, comatose-like death of Boredom, the kind of Boredom that had him _wishing_ that he could do something as exciting as watch paint dry or grass grow right about now.

He missed Roxas. That was the real truth to the matter, hidden under the agonizing Boredom and utter melancholy. He _missed_ Roxas, definitely, missed the boy he was in love with, throbbed with the pain of rejection long after the bruise had faded from his jaw. He missed him, but more than he missed the blue eyes that shone like diamonds, he missed his best friend. Life was never boring when Roxas was around, even if solely for the fact that at least when he and Roxas were bored, they were bored together.  
Thinking about Roxas did nothing for his boredom. Now he was bored and miserable, not just bored. Stupid, smirking little bitch. He always was a troublemaker, always was a huge fucking pain in the ass, but the fact that he was able to drive Axel out of his mind without even being there, without even talking to him, was a whole new level of irksome. Jackass.

Axel sat up suddenly, and since when had his body started making these kinds of decisions without his brain being involved in the process? He certainly didn't remember being consciously aware of deciding to get up, to scoop a semi-clean t-shirt off the floor and pull it over his shock of auburn hair, to shove his feet into shoes. Really, any time his body decided to clue his brain in would be great, because he _almost_ felt like he was about to head over to Roxas' house and apologize to the bastard. That would be ridiculous though. For one, he wasn't the one who'd _punched his best friend in the face_.

Still, Axel mused silently as he laced up his Chucks, the red ones today, it was a twenty minute walk to Roxas' house, and even if all they did was scream at each other it would still kill a solid hour of time. It beat staring at the ceiling, yeah?

Mind made up, and hi-tops laced up, Axel crossed the room in two purposeful strides, yanking his bedroom door open.

And coming face to face with Roxas.

"I...what?" Axel gaped at the blond standing in front of him, the scowl on his face, both hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. "What are you...what?"

The scowl on Roxas' face deepened, blond eyebrows furrowed together over unusually steel blue eyes, glinting with fierce determination. Axel didn't particularly like the expression glaring out at him...somehow he felt it didn't bode very well for his jaw. Or his nose. God, he hoped Roxas didn't break his nose.

"Did you mean it?" Roxas snapped. Axel frowned, fingers tightening on the doorknob he was still latched onto. Did he mean what? Kissing him? Telling the stupid brat that he thought he might be in love with him? What do you even say to that, no, I was totally joking, thought it'd be a laugh?

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Did you _mean it_, Axel?" There was something else in his voice this time, something that Axel didn't really recognize, but it kept Roxas' shoulders squared and his jaw tight, and the outline of the fingers in his pockets looked like fists.

"Of course I _meant _it, jackass. What, did you think I was just kidding? Having a laugh? Why the fuck would I –"

Roxas' knuckles collided with Axel's jaw, hard enough that it would have sent him flying if it wasn't for the second hand fisted in the material around his collar. Roxas held him upright, absently shaking his right hand, looking entirely non-plussed as Axel swore and rubbed at his jaw, fingers delicately probing the rapidly-bruising skin.

"Who the fuck are you," Axel spat, fingers leaving his jaw to grab at the hand holding his collar, struggling to wrench Roxas' hand away. "Show up at my house and fucking punch me in the face? I left you alone man, I wasn't doing anything to you."

"That," Roxas hissed, batting Axel's groping hand away, "is exactly the point, asshole. Now shut up." And before Axel had time to muster up an appropriate response, before he really even had a chance to register that Roxas' free hand was sliding along his collarbone to the back of his neck, the shorter boy had yanked him forward, closing the distance between them until it was non-existent.

It was far from perfect. Axel had been open-mouthed, about to speak, and Roxas had pulled a little too hard, and there was an awkward collision of teeth and lips and it took Axel a few moments to catch up to exactly what was going on. It only took seconds after that for Axel to move though, to relinquish his hold on the doorknob and wrap his arm around Roxas' waist, pulling the smaller boy flush up against him as he adjusted the angle of his mouth. It was far from perfect, but it was absolutely the best kiss either one of them had ever had.

Axel pulled away first, only far enough to put an inch or two between their faces, to give him a chance to breathe, and maybe to figure out what the fuck just happened. The hand that had been on his own jaw had relocated to Roxas' hair; he found himself playing absently with the short blond spikes as he caught his breath.

"You're not going to hit me again, are you?"

Roxas laughed, a short, breathy wisp of laughter that was more an exhalation of breath than anything else. His eyes were still closed, cheeks slightly pink with a flush that Axel found entirely too appealing. The hand that was still gripping his collar crept up to his jaw as Roxas' finally opened his eyes, pale fingers gingerly brushing over the inflamed flesh.

"You deserved it." Roxas shrugged unashamedly, but Axel could see the unspoken apology in his eyes. They'd been friends for nine years, it wasn't hard to hear the things Roxas didn't say.

"You punched me for kissing you." Axel reminded him, smirking at the blond still only inches away. "Does that mean I get to hit you now?"

"If you really want to," Roxas rolled his eyes, "although really, I'd much rather you just kiss me instead."

And really, Axel reasoned, pulling Roxas over the threshold and slamming the door shut, pressing his best friend against the wood and picking up right where they had left off, he didn't mind that alternative at all.


	15. Count It

**Title**: Count It  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Count It" by Hit the Lights

* * *

Roxas shifted his weight against the stage as best he could, given how tightly he was pressed against the painted wood. The first two bands hadn't been so rough, they were local bands, total nobodies, no one was vying for a spot closer to the stage. But this band, the third and final opening act before Say Anything hit the stage, they were apparently somebody worth knowing. Roxas didn't know a thing about them, hadn't even heard of them before, some band called Melodious Nocturne, but from the way the crowd behind him was suddenly jostling against him, fighting for every inch closer to the stage, other people in here definitely had heard of them.

He'd never been this close to the stage before, never actually made it early enough that he'd been touching the stage, knees and hips and toes kissing the hard wood as he braced himself with hands pressed to the black surface. It was a bizarre angle to watch a concert from, eye level with the band member's shins, wires and cables and amps clearly visible without the usual sea of heads and shoulders blocking the stage. Roxas didn't mind it, it beat being so short that he couldn't see anything over the shoulders of the 6'2" meathead standing in front of him, like that time he'd spent $75 on Blink tickets and couldn't see a damn thing.

It was actually kind of cool, watching the band walk out on stage by way of studying their feet. The bass player, tan calves bare save for fine downy blond hair, despite the fact that it was November, rolled out on stage looking like he'd just come back from surfing, cargo shorts and tan leather flip flops. The drummer, deeper into the background and harder to make out, was all sharp shins and knobbly knees under his painfully skinny black jeans, the cuffs of which were tucked into well-loved black combat boots. Roxas had never watched a show this way before, watching the band take the stage like real people, analyzing them like he could actually tell something about them from their shoes. The bass player was obviously either a surfer or a wannabe, and those combat boots looked like they might be steel-toed, but what seemed like glaring differences didn't stop the bass player from leaning over the drum kit as he plugged his bass into his amp, toes of one foot pointed as he leaned his weight on the opposite leg.

The lead singer took the stage as the bass played pulled back from the drum set, feet shuffling over the wires as he crossed paths with the most amazing pair of Chucks Roxas had ever seen. They were white extra-hi tops, black laces only wrapping halfway up, leaving the open top half of the shoe to fan around narrow, black-denim-clad calves. The shoes were cool, it wasn't every day you saw extra-hi tops on someone, but it was the Sharpie and paint splashed over the entire canvas surface of both shoes that had Roxas' jaw dropping open in jealous amazement.

They were _beautiful_. A rainbow collage of graphics and words, music notes and a guitar and stars and explosions of swirling designs. The All-Star logos had been painted over with a pair of wicked looking spiked wheels, each pierced through with an elaborate looking key. Every time the singer moved Roxas caught a new glimpse of something on the shoes, writing across the tongue and up the back spine, a single button sewn into the arch of his right foot. They were a masterpiece, absolutely stunning, and definitely handmade.

He had to crane his neck to look up at the band member's faces, and he'd been planning on waiting until Say Anything came out before expending this much effort, but Roxas just _had_ to see more of this person who, apart from owning the most brilliant pair of shoes he'd ever seen, also managed to sound pretty baller on a guitar and sing, actually _sing_, not yell, at the same time. Lapis lazuli eyes trailed slowly up over worn black jeans, skinny but not tight, held up on narrow hips by a studded red leather belt wrapped twice around, belt buckle shoved to the side so it wouldn't scratch the back of the flame-colored guitar strapped across his chest. A plain white v-neck stretched across a lean chest, thin enough to hint at teasing flashes of color decorating the skin under the cotton. Roxas raised a single blond eyebrow as he followed the slope of a long, pale neck, a smirk rising unbidden to his lips. Lead Singer was _hot_, and he hadn't even gotten to his face yet.

Roxas vision swam. He was certain, had it not been for the wave of people behind him, crashing relentlessly against the edge of the stage, he'd be flat on his back on the ground, legs giving out underneath him as he finally looked up enough to study the lead singer's face. It was a beautiful face, absolutely no doubt about that, narrow jaw, high cheekbones, vividly green cat-like eyes underscored by striking purple tattoos. He was hot, ridiculously hot, completely and breathtakingly gorgeous, but none of that was what had left Roxas choking on a name rising unbidden to his lips, gasping for breath like he'd just been kicked in the gut.

Maybe he'd seen him out of his peripheral, or maybe he'd been glancing down at his guitar, or to check the set list, or to check on his shoes, but the redheaded guitarist dropped his gaze just in time to see the small blond boy hyperventilating against the stage. Roxas was nearly bent double over the stage, shoulders hunched against the onslaught of the crowd behind him, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Image after image after image flashed across his eyelids, scenes from dreams he'd had nearly every week for as long as he could remember, dreams of black leather coats and shining weapons and darkness embodied by swirling black flames. There was no _way_ that the lead singer of Melodious...Melodious Nocturne. He lifted his head, annoyed at how much effort the simple move took, ocean eyes falling on the surfer-dude bass player. Sea-green eyes, world's strangest blond mullet/mohawk, bass painted with the same rounded-off cross as his sitar had had. It was hard to see the drummer behind his kit, but even from here Roxas recognized the sweep of charcoal gray bangs.

No. way.

There wasn't really much point in fighting it, it was like resisting the pull of an opposing magnet or trying to defy gravity; Roxas' eyes dragged themselves back on their own accord, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when he met malachite eyes staring right back at him.

It took a moment for the other two to realize that the singing had stopped. Fingers stilling slowly, drumsticks still tapping a light beat against the snare, confused looks exchanged and echoed by the murmuring crowd. Roxas didn't notice any of it. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the burning green stare, lips parting lightly as he struggled to suck in a breath. Nervously, subconsciously, he dragged the tip of his tongue across the bone-dry pink flesh.

"What the –"

"Shut up, Dem." Demyx accepted the guitar being shoved into his hands with a look of utter shock on his tan face, gaping as his bandmate strode across the stage to close the remaining gap between him and the crowd. Roxas was ready without knowing what he was waiting for, accepting the proffered hand and wrapping his own fingers around a similarly pale wrist, accepting the help of the bemused boy behind him as he hauled himself up on the stage.

The murmuring had reached new levels of loud, slowly giving way to shouted protests as the crowd complained about the delay. Demyx, if Roxas had cared enough to look, had finally realized what was going on, barely suppressed grin on his cheerful face. Roxas didn't notice. He didn't have eyes for anything but the boy standing before him, fingers slowly unwrapping from his wrist but not leaving his skin. They stared at each other, green on blue, breathless and speechless, motionless save the fingers slowly creeping up to curl around Roxas' neck.

"Axel."

They moved with a suddenness that couldn't have worked better if planned, colliding together in a tangle of lips and limbs, fingers scrambling to grasp as much of the other as possible, never settling for long on one spot before roaming off to tangle through hair or brush across a collarbone. The audience, fickle and easily excitable, was screaming a whole different kind of song, whooping and hollering for the couple on stage, the singer who'd always sang about that missing piece looking for all the world like someone had just made him whole.


	16. Inevitable

I'm very aware of how similar this is to "Damn Regret." Oh well. I'm also really enjoying this particular universe, and might be playing in it some more.

* * *

Title: Inevitable  
Characters: Demyx, Zexion  
Song: "Inevitable" by Anberlin

* * *

Dedicated to **luckless-is-me**, who never fails to leave fantastic reviews, and therefore is totally AWESOME.

* * *

Demyx stared contemplatively at the cork board hanging over his desk, blond head cocked to the side as he considered the last piece of decoration left on his wall. He'd taken down the posters, all sixteen of them, rolled each one carefully and stored them neatly in their little cardboard tubes, lined up in a row on top of his guitar case. Only the cork board remained, and while the posters had been packed up without a thought, the board gave him pause.

He would regret not bringing it. He knew that. It wasn't that he gave a damn about the board itself, it was a regular old cork board that his mom had bought at Staples, nothing remotely special. The collage spilling over it, though, was a work of art. Really. It had taken him years to perfect it like this, to reach a point where he looked at it and knew it represented everything he wanted it to.

The pictures spread over a wide range of time, various people disappearing and reappearing in them based on when they were taken. It was a perfect display of his friends, his favorite people in the world, the people he would miss more than anything or anyone else when he moved into his dorm tomorrow. He'd regret it if he didn't take them along with him, definitely, but some of them he didn't need, and some of them just...

He would take some of them, Demyx decided. He would sort them into two piles, and he would take the ones that he absolutely couldn't go without, and the other pile would go on the deepest depths of the bottom drawer of his desk, hopefully deep enough down that he'd never have to see them again. Demyx pulled the board down, cleared a space on his bed, and set to work, pulling pictures off one at a time.

The first one was the newest, the last picture taken of all of them. Someone's parent had taken it at graduation, all the graduates in their graduation robes, boys in maroon, Larxene in gold, Twilight High's school colors. They were all there, even the few of them that were still juniors, Sora and Kairi and Namine, the ones who wouldn't be graduating until next year. Demyx didn't have to worry about bringing this one, he already had a copy of it, printed larger and framed, safely packed into one of his boxes. Namine had given each of them a framed copy before they left, Roxas and Axel, Riku, Demyx, Larxene, Marluxia, Lexaeus, Xigbar. Zexion.

There were pictures of all of them. Roxas and Axel, Roxas' hand pressed against his boyfriend's face, shoving the redhead away from him, ignoring the way his other hand was tangled with Axel's. Roxas had left for school the week before; Axel called the next day to tell Demyx that he was in Radiant Gardens, could Demyx and Riku maybe pack up some of Axel's stuff and ship it out to him. No one was particularly surprised by that. The picture didn't make the cut, but the one of Demyx, Axel, and Riku on stage at the winter talent show did, and so did the one of Roxas and Sora straddling their drunkenly passed out boyfriends, shamelessly applying thick coats of Kairi's pink eyeshadow. Demyx never hung the picture of Axel's and Riku's finished makeovers; that one was saved in a safe spot under his mattress, protected for whenever he needed blackmail on his friends.

One by one he pulled the pictures off the board, sorting each into one of the two piles. Every picture brought a smile or a laugh, every picture an intentionally-chosen moment of some of his favorite memories. Pictures of Larxene, Namine, and Marluxia, Larxene wielding a brush loaded with pink hair dye, Marluxia's head covered in the pale pink cream, Namine shaking her head at her boyfriend. Pictures of Xiggy and Lexaeus shamelessly staring each other down, both eyes bugging out of their heads with the effort not to blink. Pictures of Axel and Roxas and Demyx and Zexion, in middle school, back when Roxas' used half a bottle of hair gel in any given week and Axel was going through his Hot Topic phase, when Zexion still wore glasses and Demyx' hair wasn't long enough to faux hawk, when all four of them had braces and it was cool to hang out at the mall, wandering up and down the stretch of stores.

Demyx' hand froze over the "leave" pile, hovering with the picture pressed between two fingers. He didn't really need anyone at his school to see him with braces and that goofy-kid grin, but he didn't have many pictures of the four of them.

Most importantly, though, he wasn't sure if he wanted to bring Zexion to school with him.

He dropped the picture in the pile of photos he was leaving at home before reaching blindly for the next one. This time it was just him and Zexion, a candid shot probably taken by Kairi. It was one of his favorites, a picture from last summer, the day they'd taken the train out to the beach and spent the entire day, camped out and built a bonfire. Demyx was leaning back against a log they'd dragged in front of the fire, his shoulder resting against Zexion's thigh as the shorter boy sat perched on the same log. The blond had his guitar cradled in his lap, fingers moving lazily across the strings despite the fact that his head was tilted back, glancing up at the stars. Zexion's eyes were on him.

Fingers shaking, the paper quivering in his grip, Demyx dropped the picture onto the "take" pile. He'd keep it in his desk drawer, maybe, not put it up with the rest of them. It would kill him to look at it every day, to see the soft look of affection on Zexion's pale face, the small smile quirking the corner of his lip, but it would be worse not to have it at all.

The problem with Zexion was that he was impossible to avoid like this. Demyx liked pictures, liked taking them, liked being in them, liked collecting them, and it only made sense that the person Demyx had the most pictures of, other than himself, was the person he spent the most time with. He and Zex had been friends for years and years, since kindergarten, really, Demyx even had a picture of them, Zexion's glasses too big on his tiny face, Demyx' smile wide and bright despite the fact that they'd made a grand total of 75 cents at their lemonade stand. He was hard to avoid, going through this picture collage, because he was in _so many_ of Demyx' pictures.

"Stupid bastard," Demyx muttered, throwing the picture of their five-year-old selves onto the "leave" pile. There weren't any pictures of Zexion from this summer. Demyx hadn't seen him once, not once, not since the week after graduation, since Riku's graduation party. Demyx hadn't seen from him, hadn't heard from him, hadn't said a word to him. He would have been concerned, if he didn't know better. Demyx would have been the first person Zexion's parents called if anything had happened with their son, he would have heard something if anything had happened. No, Zexion was avoiding him. Plain and simple. Zexion was avoiding him.

He stopped considering the pictures of Zexion at all; if Zexion was in it, it went in the "leave" pile, regardless of who else was there or how great the picture was. Another one of him, Zexion, Axel, and Roxas. Zexion, Lexaeus, and Marluxia. Riku and Zexion comparing hair color. Roxas and Zexion arguing over who was shorter. Demyx and Zexion. Demyx and Zexion. Demyx and Zexion. Demyx and – knock knock knock.

"I'm almost done," Demyx called, dropping the last picture onto the "leave" pile. "Give me fifteen minutes to finish this up and we can start loading the car."

He rifled through two more pictures before he realized that he hadn't heard his mom's response, and still another before he realized that his door was open. Demyx glanced up from a picture of him, Sora, and Roxas making faces at the camera to see what she wanted. The picture fluttered to the bed from between slackened fingers as Demyx caught not the tearful "my baby's going off to college" stare he'd been getting from his mother all week, but steel blue anger glaring out at him from under a curtain of charcoal hair.

"What, you were just going to leave? Just like that? You weren't even going to say goodbye?" Zexion snapped, thin arms crossed over his chest. Demyx gaped at him. _Gaped_. Jaw hanging, eyes wide, incredulous look in those aqua eyes, _gaped_. "I never thought you were a coward, Demyx."

"I..._what_?" Demyx mouth worked furiously, though he wasn't quite sure what he was actually trying to say. "What are you...I'm a...what? I mean, _what_? Who the hell are you to call me a coward?"

The incredulity was gone; Demyx was fuming now, furious at the audacity of his so called best friend standing here calling him a coward. Zexion, who knew him better than anyone else. Zexion, who was the first person in the world that Demyx had the courage to come out to, sitting in a quiet corner of Riku's backyard during his graduation party. Zexion, who had stared at Demyx with wide eyes for thirty seconds before getting up and walking away _without a single word_. There was a coward in this room, and it sure as hell wasn't Demyx.

"You were just going to leave, Demyx. You were just going to go off to college on the other side of the world without even so much as telling me you were going. Why?" Zexion hadn't raised his voice like Demyx had, but he didn't need to. His greatest weapon was the sharp ice in his quiet voice, the cold steel in his stare. He leveled Demyx with both, gaze unflinching even as Demyx pushed himself off the bed and climbed to his feet.

"You spent the entire summer avoiding me, how the hell was I supposed to know that you'd suddenly want to say goodbye?" Demyx snapped, hands clenching into fists at his sides. It was Zexion's turn to stare at him, Zexion's turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow and blink owlishly at the blond.

"I spent the entire summer...are you kidding? Demyx, I spent the summer at my dad's, doing an internship with Professor Vexen at HBU."

"What?" Demyx blinked once, twice. What? That didn't...what?

"The person who got the internship originally backed out last minute. They called me the morning after Riku's party asking if I was interested. I left the next day, and spent the entire summer there. You didn't think to ask anyone why I wasn't around?" The anger was slowly dripping out of Zexion's tone, replaced with a special kind of exasperation he usually reserved specially for Demyx. Demyx blushed, unclenched fingers slowly coming up to rub the back of his neck.

"I thought you were avoiding me."

"You're the one who was avoiding me." Zexion scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You never answered a single text or phone call, not one, all summer."

And now Demyx was _really_ blushing, fire engine red glow spreading over his face and down his neck, fingers tangled into the hair hanging down the back of his neck. Zexion's eyebrow raised, if possible, even higher into his hairline, the corner of his lip quirking up into a smirk.

"I uh...I kind of...broke my phone."

"You broke your phone?" There was that exasperation again, exasperation and a tinge of amusement, but it still wasn't the grudgingly affectionate tone Zexion usually affected with him. Demyx squirmed under the still-cold stare. Zexion excelled at making him feel like an idiot; seriously, wasn't _he_ the one who was supposed to be mad at _Zexion_?

"I threw it. Against the wall. I was uh...a little mad." And really, a lesser man than Zexion would have face-palmed at that, heel of the hand straight to his forehead. Zexion even looked like he considered it for a moment, arms twitching against his chest. He did little more than shake his head, the swish of his bangs across his cheeks hiding the way his lips quirked up in a smile. "I made it my facebook status. Everyone else got my new number."

"I don't have a facebook." Zexion reminded him dryly. And Demyx, not being nearly as well-composed as Zexion, made no effort to fight the urge to slam his palm against his face, peering out from his best friend through long spread fingers.

"I...crap." Demyx fell back down onto the bed with a thump, narrowly avoiding landing on the half-empty cork board. The last of the tension faded from Zexion's shoulders as he slumped sideways against the doorframe, one corner of his mouth curling up in the familiar half smirk that told Demyx that, just like that, the fight was over.

And _this_, right here, was why Demyx loved him. No one knew him better than Zexion, no one understood him better than Zexion, and _no one_ could make Demyx forgive them as easily as Zexion could. That's why they were best friends, and that's why Demyx loved him. He just...wasn't going to tell him that. Ever.

"You took the board down?" Zexion nodded at the cork board on Demyx' bed. Demyx nodded, shifting the two piles onto the board to make more room on the bed.

"Take," he said, gesturing to the two piles, "and leave. But I might have to go through the 'leave' pile again." Zexion's smirk turned into just a little bit of a genuine smile as he crossed the room, dropping onto the bed next to Demyx and picking up the stack of pictures Demyx was planning on taking to school with him.

"Did you hear about Axel?" He asked, flipping through them one by one, pausing to wave the picture of Roxas pushing Axel away. Demyx nodded, reaching around Zexion for the second pile of pictures, looking them over with a much less critical eye when it came to Zexion. They sat in silence for a while, Zexion flipping through Demyx' choices, Demyx occasionally passing him pictures to add to the "take" pile. It wasn't until Demyx spent a solid ten seconds trying to pass off a picture that he realized that Zexion was completely still, staring down at the picture on top of the pile.

It was the one of them on the beach, the one Demyx couldn't bear to leave at home. Zexion stared down at the glossy surface with an unreadable expression on his face, dragging one fingertip along the edge of the picture.

"I love that one." Demyx nodded, glancing over Zexion's shoulder to study the image. Zexion turned to meet Demyx' teal eyes, and it wasn't until then that Demyx realized just how close they were sitting. They both froze, faces only inches apart, knees overlapping on the worn blue comforter.

"I never apologized."

"What?" Demyx blinked, pulling back far enough to study Zexion's face. The slate haired boy stared back unflinchingly, despite the slight flush rising on his sharp cheekbones.

"I never apologized for the way I reacted that night. It was...not the best reaction. Not at all. And I understand why you were mad about it." Zexion kept his voice soft, and they were sitting close enough that it didn't matter. Demyx glanced down at the pictures in his left hand, fingers pulling at the hole torn into the right knee of his jeans.

"It's fine." Demyx muttered, keeping his eyes firmly on his lap. A second hand appeared in his line of sight, smaller, paler fingers pressing against his own tan fingers, stilling the nervous motion teasing the frayed jeans. He stared down at Zexion's hand against his own, the soft pads of Zexion's fingertips warm against the back of Demyx' hand.

"It's not." Zexion insisted quietly. "It was horrible. I just didn't...I didn't really know how to react. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. Although in retrospect," and here Zexion gave a little self-depreciating laugh, "not saying anything was probably not the choice reaction."

"Have you...settled on a better one yet?" Zexion still hadn't moved his hand. Demyx stayed as still as possible, barely breathing for fear of reminding Zexion to move.

"I thought about it a lot while I was away, actually." Zexion sighed, and Demyx didn't have to see the look on his face to know that his best friend was tense again. "I thought about you going off to school without me, making new friends...meeting other guys."

Demyx watched, fascinated, as Zexion's fingertips slid over the skin of his hand, skimming down and across until their fingers were laced together, palms pressed flat together. What was Zexion _doing_?

"I didn't like it." Zexion admitted, and his voice was so soft now that Demyx had to look up, had to tear his gaze away from their entwined hands to study the peacock blue eyes staring levelly back at him, set with determination but brimming with...something else. Something Demyx didn't recognize, didn't remember ever seeing before in Zexion's gaze.

"Why not?" Demyx whispered, just as soft, just as unreadable.

Zexion moved slowly, slowly enough that Demyx could register what was about to happen, recognize and react, whether he wanted to participate or stop Zexion. _As if_ he was going to stop Zexion.

It was soft and simple, a brush of lip against lip, Demyx' bottom lip caught just slightly between Zexion's. Charcoal bangs tickled the skin on Demyx' nose and cheek, and the blond almost forgot to drop the pile of pictures in his free hand before reaching up to curl his fingers around his best friend's neck, but none of that matter as Zexion pulled back just far enough to meet Demyx' sea-salt green eyes, a small smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.

"I want to be the last boy you ever kiss," Zexion whispered, breath from each word ghosting across Demyx' jaw. "Because I want to be the only boy you ever kiss."

And really, Demyx mused, using the hand around Zexion's neck to tug his best friend back to him, what kind of response was there other than to seal his promise with a kiss?

* * *

Boys are dumb. Hope you liked it sweetie =)


	17. Glory Fades

**Title**: Glory Fades  
**Characters**: Seifer/Hayner  
**Song**: "Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades" by Brand New

* * *

Delving into new territory here with my new obsession with Seiner. It's totally hot, deal with it. Also, this song is mad emo and angsty and one of my top ten favorite songs in the world (falling just shy of the top five mark) and despite all of that, I refuse to do it the cold-hearted justice it deserves and will give this a decent ending. Seifer is also gloriously OOC. Deal with that too.

* * *

He'd never meant to let it go this far.

Hayner keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling as he slowly lets them adjust to the dark bedroom. The only light comes from the alarm clock glowing on the night stand and the light pollution from the city outside the window, but as he holds himself still and blinks owlishly at the ceiling more and more of the unfamiliar bedroom becomes visible to him.

Seifer's room is small and unexpectedly tidy, if you disregard the small assortment of clothing strewn across the floor. Since more than half of it belongs to Hayner himself, and the remaining pieces had been removed by the same blond, it feels right to disregard them. He waits until his eyes adjust enough that he can read the fine print at the bottom of the Struggle poster on the opposite wall before moving, sliding slowly out from under the arm draped over his waist and pulling himself into an upright position.

He had _never_ meant for this to happen.

Well. That wasn't true. He had certainly _wanted_ this to happen, had dreamed of it, even, on the bad nights, the nights when even his iPod couldn't drown out the sound of his parents' screaming fights, the nights when Roxas' didn't answer his phone because he was at Axel's and he knew he couldn't handle Pence' or Olette's sympathy. But he had _never_ intended this tonight, had never thought in a million years that what had started as something half-baked and crazy would land him naked in Seifer's bed, staring at the ceiling as though begging it for some kind of explanation.

Truth be told, Hayner had been expecting a punch straight to the jaw, had even though up a story in advance for when Olette asked about the bruise in school tomorrow morning. He'd expected that Seifer would hear about every third or fourth word coming out of his mouth, that the older blond wouldn't get much further than the quiet confession that Hayner didn't actually _hate_ him, and that he would wind up, one way or another, flat on his back with a bruised jaw and a new reason for Seifer to despise him.

Well, Hayner thinks wryly, placing his bare feet on the floor as gently as possible, he had certainly wound up flat on his back.

It was all wrong. All wrong. Wrong wrong wrong, had been from the very beginning, and really he should have known the second he walked into the Sandlot that things were going to be bad bad bad and he should just abandon his plan. He'd had it all planned out; find Seifer, get him away from Thing 1 and Thing 2, and confess that he didn't care how much Seifer hated him, or how much Seifer baited him, he was tired of playing their game and he wasn't going to rise to the challenge anymore. He wasn't a little kid anymore, he didn't need to dip the girls' pigtails in the inkwells to get them to pay attention to him, and, well, if Seifer hadn't noticed him by now, then he was never going to.

It went all wrong from the start. Hayner had barely even left the alleyway he was coming from when he was slammed up against the wall behind him, one of Seifer's forearms flat across his chest, pinning both his shoulders back against the grimy bricks.

"What have I told you about being in my Sandlot, Chickenwuss?" Seifer had been right up in his face, free arm braced against the bricks above Hayner's shoulder, so close that he could feel the heat from the older man's bare skin radiating against his jaw. Seifer's face was close and hard, and thoughts of confessions and white flags had flown entirely from Hayner's mind.

"I don't remember anyone ever saying it was yours," he'd snarled, struggling to lift his arms and push the head of the Disciplinary Committee off him. Seifer knew him better than that, had placed his arm low enough of Hayner's chest to limit the movement in his upper arms. The smaller blond was, quite effectively, pinned.

"It's mine," Seifer hissed, "the Sandlot, and _every_thing in it, belongs to _me_." And there was something in the way he said it, something about the combination of the authority laced through the older teen's voice and slow, deliberate way he raked his teal eyes over Hayner's tense body, and Hayner just _snapped_. He'd lunged forward with everything he had in him, and maybe the sudden movement had distracted Seifer, because Hayner was finally able to free one arm from where it was pinned, curl his fingers around his rival's neck, and _pull_.

Seifer was a fighter. Seifer was a fighter, street fighting and Struggling and boxing and nothing, _nothing_ could distract him for long, even something as ballsy and unexpected as Hayner yanking him forward and kissing him hard, the press of lips just as violent as any punch either of them would have thrown. Hayner had figured he had maybe five seconds before Seifer 1. realized what was happening, 2. wrenched himself away, 3. knocked the smaller boy out with a one-two blow to the jaw.

Seifer surged forward, and suddenly it wasn't just his arm pinning Hayner but his entire _body_, shoulder to chest to hip to thigh, and the lips that Hayner had slammed against his own were parting, teeth biting down on Hayner's mouth and tongue forcing its way inside, and suddenly _nothing_ either one of them did was enough as they both did their level best to straight up crawl right on inside the other's skin.

They lost control of it. Hayner couldn't even begin to guess where it started and where it ended, what separated his actions from Seifer's, who was to blame for what happened tonight. All he knew was that it had spiraled madly away from him, ricocheting off into some distant world as they clawed desperately at each other, all lips and teeth and scrambling hands and panting moans, just another avenue of fighting on a battlefield they hadn't yet explored.

Hayner pauses in his failing search for his boxers, taking a moment on the edge of Seifer's bed to bury his head in his hands, long fingers threading through his wavy blond hair.

He had never meant to let this go this far.

Because the sad, miserable, horrible truth of it, was that he actually, genuinely _liked_ the other guy. More than liked him, really. And yeah, okay, he'd slept with him. Yes, maybe they'd had the most fantastic sex Hayner had ever had, seen, or heard of, and yes, that had been back in the alley in the Sandlot, and yes, it had happened again, and again, once they'd finally made their way back to Seifer's apartment two blocks away...but eventually, Seifer was going to wake up. Eventually Seifer was going to wake up, and realize that he had his arm casually thrown around his enemy's waist, and then the punches Hayner had been expecting last night would come when he least expected them, and it would hurt twice as hard because they would burn with the dull, aching throb of rejection and dashed hopes.

The best thing to do was to get out of here. Before Seifer woke up. Get out of here and pretend it never happened, hate himself for a few weeks, months, whatever, and then move on. Walk the other way whenever he saw Seifer. Consider taking Roxas up on that offer to set him up with that one friend of Axel's, the British one with the piercings. Forget that Seifer existed.

His boxers, he vaguely remembers through his lust-drunk haze, had been taken off at or around the same time as his pants. Meaning there was a very good likelihood they were still nestled in the crotch of his jeans, like they were waiting for him to step right back into them. His jeans were across the room, under Seifer's desk, somehow, but his shirt wasn't too far off from there, and if he could just get up...

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, Lamer?"

Hayner freezes, brown eyes wide at the sound of Seifer's voice, heavy with sleep and rough with disuse, but unmistakably awake and alert. He can feel the bed shifting underneath him, the gentle protest of the mattress and the shift of cotton sheets as Seifer sits up slowly, pale blue sheet pooling in his lap.

"Well?" Seifer demands. Hayner sees him easily out of the corner of his eye, and even without his trademark black beanie and with the pillow lines etched on his face, Seifer still manages to put a steely glint into his hard glare.

"I...I just figured it was better if I wasn't...if I wasn't here when you woke up." Hayner admits quietly, inwardly cringing. His voice sounds weak in his ears, tiny and useless in the dark that was suddenly all-encompassing despite the many minutes he'd spent adjusting to the light.

Seifer stays quiet behind him, quiet for such an extended period of time that Hayner almost would have thought he'd gone back to sleep. It's only the fact that he can still feel those eyes on him, burning into the back of his neck, that convinces him otherwise. But Seifer still doesn't say anything, Seifer barely so much as breathes, so after a few moments of this Hayner makes another careful move to push himself to his feet, wincing just slightly at the twinge in his lower back. Seifer's voice makes him freeze again, closely followed by the hand closing around his bicep.

"Do you want to stay?"

"I...what?"

Seifer leans forward slowly, pulling the unresisting blond back to meet him with the hand still curled around his bicep, using his free hand to cup Hayner's jaw. This kiss was unlike any other that night. Slow and soft, not really much more than a caress of lips over lips, just the barest hint of pressure as Seifer catches Hayner's slightly swollen lower lip between his own. The older blond pulls back first, keep his palm flat against Hayner's jaw, and waits for the younger to open his eyes, slightly dazed expression on his flushed face.

"What I said," Seifer says slowly, and for the first time in as long as Hayner can remember it's a voice entirely without vitriol, just gentle and genuine and maybe, maybe tinged with something that sound just a little bit like hope, "was 'do you want to stay?' What I meant..."

The hand curled around Hayner's bicep tugs lightly, loose enough that Hayner could pull free if he wanted to, firm enough to guide him slowly back down onto the bed next to Seifer when he doesn't. The older teen slides his fingers across Hayner's back and around his waist, pulling them flush against each other before reaching over Hayner's bare shoulder to press another kiss into his jaw, precisely on the spot where the dirty blond had expected knuckles to land.

"Stay with me, Hayner."


	18. Admit It

**Title**: Admit It  
**Characters**: Axel, Riku, Demyx, Roxas  
**Song(s)**: in order of appearance; "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley, "The Good Left Undone" by Rise Against, "Connect the Dots" by The Spill Canvas, "Admit It" by Say Anything

* * *

Based on the reaction to this collection, I get the feeling that most of the people who read this are those totally awesome loyalists who read everything I write and are just ridiculously amazing like that. Which is why I've decided to tell you a secret.

_I'm working on (my first since I was 13-years-old) a multi-chapter story. Like, not a little two-shot/three-shot AM Static/The Laws of Motion kind of deal...an actual, novel-length multi-chapter Kingdom Hearts fic, including, but not limited to, Akuroku, Soriku, Zemyx, and various other pairings I've always wanted to experiment with but haven't gotten around to. It's also, surprise surprise, going to be music-related._

Now, it's a long time coming. Like, summer at the earliest. My senior thesis is due in less than a month, and I'm graduating from college a few weeks after that. But it's happening. Eventually. I'm confident enough in its happening that I'm announcing it, so now I've committed to it. Anyway, I was planning one a few months back that sort of...died out. It started with this scene, but I never got beyond this. I liked it though, and wanted to share it with you guys, and felt it was a good way of announcing the new story. Some elements from this will be taken for that story, but this premise will be abandoned. Here's the scene, it's very rough, more summary-ish than full-story, but enjoy it anyway. See you soon kids =)

* * *

People auditioning are awful, oh god are they awful, Axel, Riku, and Demyx are losing their minds they're so damn bored, they haven't even bothered to save a single one of the stupid little information forms they handed out, Axel has never hated his best friend as much as he does in this moment. The last person sucked royally.

Footsteps and an awkward throat clearing announce the arrival of a latecomer, and since they have nothing better to do Axel glances up to accept the application. He is greeted by the sight of three black, red, and white studded belts hanging loosely off the narrowest hips he'd ever seen, thinness exaggerated even further by the extreme skinniness of the dark black skinny jeans. He stares at the kid, at the skin tight "I 3 Lady Gay Gay" shirt, the black and white checkered wristband, the brilliant baby blues rimmed with subtle black liner, blond hair elegantly disheveled.

"What did you do, roll out of bed and fall into the clearance pile at Hot Topic?" Next to him, Riku hides a derisive snort behind his fingers. "Seriously, though, you have to be at least 18 to audition. Preferably 21, really, but I'll settle for 18 if you're some kind of lyrical god. Or goddess, if you're so inclined."

The blond merely glares as he slams his information sheet down on the table in front of Axel, fingers splayed across the neatly filled surface. Axel glances down, more out of impulse than the conscious decision to humor the kid, narrowed eyes falling on the line third from the top.

"Well look at that, Ax, he's only a month shy of 21. We'll have to throw him a party." Axel doesn't miss the smirk lacing in Riku's tone, and neither, apparently, does (glance; top line) _Roxas_. The scowl on the kid's face only deepens as he shifts his stare from Axel to Riku, arms twitching at his sides as though he'd like nothing more than to cross them stubbornly over his chest, or maybe sock Riku in the eye. The silver haired boy being appraised merely raises an eyebrow, hidden smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"Guys," Demyx interrupts the staring contest with poorly hidden impatience, tapping his finger on Roxas' application, "he's here, he's old enough, dear god he's a fucking scenester but hey, maybe those skinny jeans have cut off enough circulation to his dick that it's had a eunuch effect on him. One way or another, can we quit with the intimidation tactics and just let the damn kid sing already?"

Riku chuckls under his breath and Roxas relaxes his stiff posture just slightly, arms hanging more casually at his sides as his fists unclench. Axel bows his head submissively, gesturing the kid up onto the stage behind him.

"We're going to ask you to sing a few songs," he announces casually, "just like a verse from each song, nothing too long, just start wherever you want and we'll cut you off when we feel like it. Any questions?"

Roxas shakes his head. Demyx and Riku are having some kind of whispered conversation behind Axel's back, but he's not listening. The redhead has just realized that he's yet to hear the blond kid speak. He hopes the boy isn't trying to hide some hideously awful voice; he's really going to _kill_ Riku if he has to sit through one more off key warble of an audition. It's kind of weird, too; Roxas has been the only person all day to accept his instructions without asking a dozen questions. What songs? How many? What if I don't know them? What if it's not in my range? Are you going to be asking a wide variety of songs or are they all of a similar genre? Blah blah blah fucking blah.

"We'll start off easy, warm you up, stretch the vocal chords, whatever whatever. Something acoustic, something emo. Woo me. And Roxas? Don't forget to perform for me, doll."

Roxas stands silent for a full ten seconds before he finally reaches up, wraps a hand around the crappy old microphone Demyx had dug out from their high school days, and opens his mouth.

_Baby, I've been here before  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
And love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_.

Eyes closed, lips pressed close to the microphone, stand cradled close to his body, Roxas breathes the song across the mesh covering the mouthpiece. He was _good_. Fantastic. The heavens opened and angels sang and they didn't hold a candle to the blond haired god singing one of Axel's all time favorite songs in an empty, run-down theatre. On his right, Demyx falls back in his seat with a surprised thud. Riku, on his left, is dangerously close to scraping his hanging jaw on the table.

"Rock me. Punk, classic, whatever. Just make my bed rock baby."

Ten second pause. Mic pulled from the stand, stand sidestepped as the kid climbs carefully over wires, blue eyes blazing as he stares down at the three musicians in his audience.

_All because of you,  
I haven't slept in so long.  
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,  
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,  
I'll follow your voice,  
__All you have to do is shout it out._

Rise Against. Riku's favorite band; Axel's silver haired best friend stares at the kid _owning_ the stage with renewed interest, not bothering to hide the spark in his eyes. The redhead refrais from elbowing him.

"Dreamy, love. Sexy. Seduce me."

The corner of Roxas' lip turn up in a smirk that does funny things to Axel's intestines. Head tilted down, eyes closed, he replaces the microphone on the mic stand. The blond drags his tongue slowly across his bottom lip, teeth nipping quickly at the bottom corner before he finally spreads his wet lips, glancing up from under blond lashes to lock eyes with Axel.

_Don't you just love the feeling of my fingertips,  
circling your lips?  
Don't you just love the desire taking hold of you,  
I can tell you do.  
I know all your favorite spots,  
and tonight we will connect the dots._

Three for three. Riku's looking a little pale, Demyx _entirely _too turned on, and Axel's having a hard time remembering why they were even there in the first place as long as those cerulean blue eyes are drilling into his own. There's silence for a few seconds, Roxas waiting patiently for Axel's next instruction.

"Anything by Say Anything."

It's Riku's voice, not Axel's that breaks the silence. The redhead's eyes nearly bug out of his head as he rips away from Roxas' gaze to stare at his suddenly ex-best friend. Riku's eyes are narrowed right back. Roxas contemplates this song choice longer than any of the previous ones, but even then it's barely fifteen seconds before he starts singing. Axel feels the air leave his lungs at a somewhat alarming speed.

_Let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved  
I spend hours in front of the mirror, making my hair elegantly disheveled.  
I worry about how this album will sell  
because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future.  
I self medicate with drugs and alcohol to treat my extreme social anxiety.  
You are a faker.  
You are a fraud.  
You're living a lie, living a lie, your life is living a lie.  
__You don't impress me,  
You don't intimidate me,  
why don't you bow down, get on the ground, walk this fucking plank_.

On his right, Demyx is laughing so hard he's having a hard time breathing. On his left, dressed in a vintage thrift store v-neck t-shirt, unbuttoned suit vest, artfully shredded jeans and Doc Martens, Riku splutters his little hippy-hipster face off, blinking rapidly at the smirking blond whose eyes haven't left the aquamarine steel of Riku's stare. The song choice had absolutely been intentional.

"Oh I _like_ him," Demyx hisses, shooting an amused glance at Riku, still snarling like a wet cat, "and I think he likes you."

"Go away, Demyx," Axel mumbles, ignoring the blond as he laughs softly in the redhead's ear. Axel glances back up at the stage, hiding the smirk threatening his lips as he catches the self-satisfied look in Roxas' eyes.

"I think we're done here," Riku snaps sourly, arms crossed rather firmly over his faded shirt. Axel knows better than to argue.

"That was great, Roxas, thanks. We have to talk, review all the other applications and such, but you should know by tomorrow the latest if you got the job. We have your cell phone number here, we'll call you. Thanks for coming, kid."

Wordlessly, shrugging fairly indifferently, Roxas hops down off the stage, gathers a backpack up off the floor by the front row of seats, and strides quietly out of the room without so much as a wave, slinging the bag casually over one shoulder. Axel watches him go with a blatant stare.

"No."

"What? Riku, he was _amazing_," Demyx argues, staring at his band mate. "His song choices were perfect, he sang them all well, he likes all the same music as us so he won't have an issue with us trying to genre-hop here and there, and he's _hot_. Besides, he wasn't afraid of you, which means he'd totally fit in here."

"I don't like it."

"Because you challenged him and he didn't run away?" Axel snorts, glancing down at the piece of paper still on the table in front of him. Roxas Strife. 20 years and 11 months. Lives in an apartment only a few blocks from Axel and Riku's. Extremely eclectic taste in music.

"Because you're already looking at him like he's something good to eat. God, Axel, do you not remember why we're auditioning new singers in the first place?" Riku snaps, glaring at his best friend. Axel frowned.

"First of all, don't apply your mistakes to me, you fucked that shit up all on your own pretty boy. Secondly, _I have a girlfriend_, so piss off. If that's your only objection, I vote yes too."

Riku opens his mouth to argue, but the argument dies in his eyes almost immediately, the words never making their way passed his parted lips. He simply nods, jaw tight, brow furrowed, and winces when Demyx cheered.

"I'll call him tomorrow," Axel promises, climbing to his feet and stretching his stiff limbs, "we have a gig Saturday night, so we're going to have to rehearse a ton this week to break him in in time. Welcome to Melodious Nocturne, Roxas Strife."


	19. Self Conclusion

So. The thing about my thesis is that it's a collection of original short stories. One of them, "The Mix Tape," is essentially the same as this collection...I put my iPod on shuffle and get inspired by love songs that come on to either write "Side A Tracks" (love stories) or "B Side Tracks" (heartbreak stories). PROBLEM WITH THAT: every other song that comes on I'm like "oooh, that would be great for Betwixt and Between!"

I've been so productive this week. Not. At least I'll have a great career as an anonymous fanfiction author when I fail my thesis/fail out of college. Word.

* * *

**Title**: Self-Conclusion  
**Characters**: Axel, Roxas  
**Song**: "Self-Conclusion" by The Spill Canvas

* * *

For those of you who are not familiar with this song, it's about a girl who wants to commit suicide and the guy who stops her. Many, many of the lines in this story are either verbatim or paraphrased from the lyrics. THATS WHY THIS IS THE MOST EMO. Love me anyway.

* * *

"Excuse me?"

Axel turned, glancing back over his shoulder, breath catching slightly in his throat. He raised an eyebrow at the blond kid, because really, he couldn't have been a day older than 18, probably more like 16, scowling up at him. He hadn't expected to run into anyone up here, especially not at this time of night. He didn't even know anyone else knew how to get up to the top of the clock tower, although he supposed it wasn't that impossible if he'd figured it out.

"What's up, kid?" He asked, turning back to face the sky again. Twilight Town was supposed to be known for its sunsets, but this late night sky was pretty damn spectacular too. It's why he'd picked the night, really. He had no qualms about scarring any wayward travelers in the broad daylight, but being up here under all theses stars was just magnificent.

"I'm 22," Blondie snapped. Axel could hear the snarl in his voice, feel the glare heating up the skin between his shoulder blades. Kitty had claws, apparently. "Anyway. I...well. You're in my way."

Axel turned again, turning completely around this time, twisting his body to face the boy standing in front of him, both feet flat on the rooftop instead of up on the parapet where he was. On closer inspection he would have been willing to up the kid's age to maybe 19, 20. Definitely not 22. He really was breathtaking though. Not necessarily in the attractive way, although he was _certainly _that, but more like...in the way he made Axel's chest burn.

"I'm sorry?" Axel laughed, blinking rapidly as he caught up. "I know I have a bit of an ass, sweetheart, but it's a pretty big roof, I think you can manage to fit up here too."

"No," the blond shook his head, spikes quivering with the movement. "No, I mean...I just don't think you want to be here right now. I don't want you to have to...to have to see this." Axel crouched down slowly, one hand balancing against the stone ledge as he lowered himself down to a sitting position, feet planted flat on the same floor as the newcomer's, back to the open sky behind him.

"See what, exactly?" The kid cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand. He looked different still at this angle; now that Axel was closer to being the same height as him, he didn't look quite so young. It was the eyes, he thought to himself. Those blue eyes that shone even in the dark, glittering like the lapis lazuli ancient civilizations used to use as eyes in statues of Gods. Nobody could look into those eyes and confuse this man with a child.

"Well." The kid took a breath as though steeling himself, letting it out slowly before the words spilled out of him in a rush. "I had plans to die tonight. And you're in my way."

Axel blinked. And again.

"I...are you...I'm sorry, are you fully aware of what you just said to me?" He cocked his head to the side, studying the tiny blond standing in front of him. He had his fists clenched at his sides now, glaring at Axel as though he were a particularly annoying bug he'd like nothing more than to step on, and somehow, Axel wasn't surprised by the fight.

"Don't judge me," he snapped, glowering. "You don't even know me."

"I'm Axel." Axel introduced himself, holding one hand out to the bristling blond. "Axel Sanchez, I'm 24, I graduated from Hollow Bastion University two years ago with a major in graphic design and a minor in music. It's very, very possible that you have heard my band's one and only single on the radio. I came here for the beach, and because I heard there's nothing in any world more beautiful than a Twilight Town sunset, and I have a thing for sunsets."

The anger on the other boy's expression had faded into abject disbelief, blue eyes blinking owlishly at him, flickering between his face and this still-outstretched hand.

"I know I don't know you," Axel added quietly, "but I'd like to change that soon. Hopefully. I mean, this is my last chance to, right? It'd be kind of hard to get to know you after you jumped."

The blond was silent for several long seconds, but Axel was patient. He waited quietly, hand hovering in the air between them, a small smile gracing his lips as the other boy finally reached out and slipped his palm against Axel's. The redhead noted absently the way his skin tingled under the touch.

"Roxas Strife," he said slowly. "I know I don't look it, but I really am 22. I'm supposed to graduate from Twilight Tech in May, had plans to move into Bastion if this one job offer panned out. I don't listen to the radio, I like being able to pick my own music, but that doesn't mean I've never heard your song, or your band. The sunset is beautiful, but the sunrise is better. I've lived here all my life."

"And now we know each other." Axel said matter-of-factly, dropping Roxas' hand as he finally realized he'd been holding it for way, way too long. "Now, do you the slightest clue what you just said to me?"

"I know you now," Roxas said, frown back on his face. "Sure, whatever. That doesn't mean you're going to talk me out of this. I mean, I don't even get why you're trying."

"Because I can't watch you leave again." Axel blurted out. Roxas blinked, head cocked slightly to the side as he leveled a burning blue stare at the redhead. Axel had no idea where the words had come from, but he didn't for a second doubt the validity of the statement. He didn't know this boy from a hole in the wall, but the thought of just sitting here, or worse, the thought of walking away, knowing that he would never, ever see Roxas again...

"No one would miss me," Roxas said quietly, and it sounded exactly right, exactly like what he was supposed to say.

"That's not true," Axel insisted. "I would." And he would. He knew it in his soul, knew that if he walked away now and left this little blond with the heartbreaking eyes to go through with his plans, that he would never stop thinking about him. He would never forget this night, and he would never forgive himself for letting Roxas go through with it, and he would never stop wondering what could have happened if he had stopped him.

"You don't get it!" Roxas cried, and the sudden ferocity in his voice made Axel jump slightly, wavering precariously on the edge of the parapet. Roxas' ocean eyes grew wide as he rocked forward slightly, looking ready to lunge forward and grab the taller man, but Axel steadied himself quickly, narrowing his eyes at the panic on the blond's face.

"You don't get it," Roxas said again, quieter this time, but no less desperately. "You make it sound so easy to just, walk away, to be alive."

"Isn't it?" Axel asked. Roxas shook his head frantically.

"I feel...I don't feel _anything_. It's like I'm dead inside. Hollow. Empty." His voice cracked on the last word, blue eyes falling shut. Axel watched him silently, his own gaze holding steadily on the smaller man's face. "Nothing helps. Drugs, alcohol, cutting. Sleeping around. Not doing anything. Therapy. Nothing helps. I just feel...nothing. I don't...I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Axel nodded, though Roxas, head bowed, eyes still closed, couldn't see it. The redhead leaned forward slightly, scooting his way to the edge of the ledge, until he was close enough that he could reach out and touch the blond, stroke the back of two fingers down the side of his jaw. He was ready for the spark this time, and apparently so was Roxas. The blond barely flinched, though Axel did hear his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

"Can you feel that?" His voice was barely higher than a whisper; if the wind had been blowing the wrong way it would have stolen the words before they'd ever reached Roxas' ears. Axel let his fingers stray, added a third, ghosted them down across Roxas' cheek and down his jaw, cupping under his chin and tilting the boy's head up, waiting for him to open his eyes. Roxas didn't have to answer, Axel could already see the answer written plainly in the ice blue eyes suddenly staring back at him.

"I have an alternative," Axel suggested, dropping his hand from the other man's jaw. "Another choice. Instead of dying, instead of climbing up here next to me and walking right off the edge, instead of leaving me here to watch you go, you could come home with me. Live, with me, instead of dying."

"Are you crazy?" Roxas croaked, his voice suddenly hoarse. Axel shook his head frantically, but Roxas wasn't done. "You don't even...Axel...you don't even know me."

"Yes, I do." Axel insisted. He meant it, too, and he meant it as more than just a few heart-wrenching minutes standing on a rooftop. Maybe they'd never met before, maybe they'd never meet again, but his _soul _knew Roxas. "I know you a lot better than you think I do. Come on, Roxas. It's an easy choice; instead of dying, living with me."

Roxas took a breath, then another. He stayed silent for the longest time yet, the air stretching thin between them as Axel shifted his weight on the ledge, balancing forward on his feet, waiting for Roxas' verdict.

"Alright," the blond said softly. "Alright, you win. I'll give you one night." He held up one finger as if emphasizing his point. "One night, to prove yourself to be better than the alternative. One night, that's it, and if you hurt me, or if you can't convince me...I swear to god, Axel, I will jump, and you won't be able to stop me."

"Roxas," Axel said gently, pushing himself to his feet and reaching for the blond's still-outstretched hand, tangling their fingers together and squeezing lightly as he pulled them both away from the edge. "Roxas, trust me. I know what you're going through."

"How?" Roxas laughed humorlessly, fingers settling against Axel's own despite the disbelief in his tone. The redhead slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs, turning around to face Roxas fully again. The blond raised an eyebrow as he glanced up, lapis lazuli shining in the orange light from the clock face.

"Because," Axel said slowly, "ten minutes before you got here, I was gonna jump too."

* * *

PS. This was my favorite band in high school. My college friends call me emo now (it's perfectly acceptable to wear black. Doesn't mean I'm emo. Just means I like the way it looks with purple and white. DUH.)...they should have seen me back then.


	20. Teenage Dirtbag

hey, anyone remember when I said I was working on a Sora/Riku one-shot? wrote this instead. fail.

if you don't know this song, check it out. it's one of my faves.

UNRELATED, BUT I GRADUATED ON SATURDAY. so, since I was an english major and therefore have absolutely not potential future/any forceable job opportunities, hopefully I'll be doing a lot more writing soon.

* * *

**Title**: Teenage Dirtbag  
**Characters**: Sora, Riku, Roxas  
**Song**: "Teenage Dirtbag" by Wheatus

also featuring "Friday" by Rebecca Black...but for the purposes of my sanity, and the safety of my ears, it's the Glee cover of the song, not that god awful crap she calls a singing voice. Everything sounds better when Mark Salling and Kevin McHale sing it.

* * *

**Monday**:

"You should ask him."

Sora winced, shaking his head empathetically. "No way," he said firmly.

"Come on, So, why not?" Roxas argued, rolling his eyes at his twin.

"Why can't you go with me?" Sora whined.

"I already told you doofus. I'm going to visit Axel that weekend and I'm leaving right after school on Friday," Roxas reminded him. Sora frowned. Roxas' stupid boyfriend went to college in Twilight Town and Rox went to visit him like every other weekend.

"Come on Rox, you visit Axel all the time. I need someone to go see Motion City Soundtrack with me. Motion City! Dude, you love them!" Sora pleaded, staring imploringly at Roxas. Roxas raised an eyebrow.

"I know two of their songs, So. I only saw them that one time cause they co-headlined with Say Anything," Roxas reminded him. "What's the big deal, just ask Riku. I bet he'd love to go."

"Just ask Riku? _Just_ ask Riku?" Sora hissed, glaring at his brother. "What am I supposed to do, walk up to him and go 'hey Riku, I know we've never, ever spoken before, and I'm sure you probably don't even know who I am, but do you want to go see a semi-obscure band that you _might_know with me?'"

"Sounds good to me," Roxas chirped cheerfully.

Sora shot him a withering glare. "I hate you."

"Ask him."

**Tuesday**:

Sora glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye as discretely as possible, studying the boy sitting two seats to the left. Riku, head down, eyes on his notebook like Sora should have been, didn't notice the brunet subtly staring at him from across the room.

Destiny Islands High was a decently sized school; small enough that you knew most of your classmates, but big enough that you might not have known people outside of your class. Riku was a year older than Sora, only in Sora's first period class because study halls were mixed grades.

Sora and Roxas transferred to Destiny Islands High two months ago when their parents moved them from Radiant Gardens out to the islands. They were different from the very first day, rolling into school with their wildly spiked hair and their favorite pairs of Chucks. Sora filled his wrists with rubber bracelets stamped with band names, red and yellow studded belts holding his uniform pants up on his hips. He didn't notice the way the island kids raised eyebrows at his pin-covered messenger bag, the way parents narrowed their eyes at Roxas' eyebrow piercing.

What he did notice was the only other boy in school who wore Chucks instead of Topsiders, whose silver hair hid silver-studded ears and a hint of black ink creeping up the back of his neck. Sora noticed Riku, noticed the way his aquamarine eyes were indescribable and how the cuffs of his uniform shirt bunched up around smooth forearms.

Riku was gorgeous. Riku was the unknown. Riku was Sora's favorite kind of punk rock, the same kind that he'd left behind when he moved away from all his friends in Radiant Gardens, the same kind that had Roxas sitting on a bus for four hours every other weekend to visit Axel. Sora just wanted someone like that here, on Destiny Islands. Someone he could quote song lyrics at and drag along to concerts, someone who would help him doodle on his Chucks and give him a boost when he wanted to crowd surf. Riku, Sora had a feeling, just might be that type of someone.

Now all he had to do was work up the courage to talk to him.

**Wednesday**:

"Hey, Riku, I'm Sora. I know we've never really talked before, but I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go see Motion City Soundtrack with me Friday night?" Sora shook his head, shaking his hair down into his face before looking back up again, blowing out a breath as he stared helplessly into the mirror.

"Hi Riku, my name's Sora, this might be totally random but I was thinking maybe you'd want to go see Motion City Friday night at the Crazy Donkey?" Sora rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. Nope. Still sounded weird.

"Sup, Riku, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but what do you think of Motion City Soundtrack? I think they're kind of awesome, and well, you're kind of awesome, so I thought maybe you'd be down to go see them Friday night? And hey, Sora, you're a total weirdo."

"Hey Riku, you're hot as fuck and there's no one else in this entire school that I even want to talk to, but talking is really only one of a long list of things I wouldn't mind doing with my mouth when it comes to you. I'm clearly a lunatic and a creep and I'm just going to go drown myself in the ocean instead of going to the Motion City Soundtrack concert Friday night because obviously I have the social skills of a particularly stupid frog."

Roxas walked in twenty minutes later to find Sora belly-down on the living room floor as though he had face-planted on the spot, bridge of his nose pressed into the navy blue carpet. "How's it going?" the blond asked his brother, raised eyebrow disappearing into his bangs. Sora mumbled something against the rug.

"What?"

"I know how I'm going to start," Sora repeated, voice muffled. He pushed himself up onto his knees, frowning helplessly at his twin.

"Well?" Roxas prompted, dropping down onto the nearby couch.

"Hi."

Sora's head hit the ground with a dull thud as Roxas chucked a pillow at him.

**Thursday**:

Sora hung back in the classroom doorway just for a second, taking a deep, slightly shuddery breath before crossing the threshold. He was going to do it. He was going to walk right up to Riku and ask him what he was doing tomorrow night. That was it. It was going to be so easy. Sora walked passed Riku's desk every day on the way to his own seat, all he had to do was pause a little bit on his way.

(Hopefully) exuding an air of confidence that he certainly didn't feel, Sora pushed his navy blue Chuck Taylors across the threshold and crossed into the classroom, casually glancing up to scan the length of the row he was aiming for. He could see, though he refused to look just yet, the telltale sign of long silver hair in his peripheral.

All he had to do was talk. Sora was good at talking. Sora was a great talker. Talked too much, in fact, more often than not. All he had to do was stop in front of Riku's desk and talk to him. While looking into those turquoise eyes that were just all kinds of amazing. And wonder what if that hair feels as much like spun silk as it looked. And most likely while trying not to think of a hundred different reasons why he should just go drown himself in a pool of awkwardness.

He rounded the corner of the first row as nonchalantly as he could manage. Easy. So easy. Come on, he was Sora Strife, not Molly freaking Ringwald. This wasn't _Sixteen Candles_; he wasn't going to just magically be face-to-face with the boy he liked and then totally just run away like a little pansy.

Sora glanced up as he passed the first row of desks. Riku sat in the third desk back, hiding under a curtain of platinum-colored hair as he scribbled (or doodled, depending on the day) in his notebook. Riku always had his nose in that little Moleskin, never looking up at the way Sora openly oogled the sight of him every day as Sora made his way to his desk, as blue eyes slid shamelessly up the smooth skin of Riku's pale forearms and the taut white fabric covering his shoulders. Sora never made an effort to hide; Riku wouldn't notice him staring if Sora started doing a tap dance in front of the older teen.

Riku was definitely, for sure, staring right at him. Sora froze, azure eyes widening as they locked onto Riku's own, slightly amused stare.

Oh. Crap.

Sora opened his mouth, closed it again, parted his lips to slide a nervous tongue across his bottom teeth. Riku cocked his head to the side, waiting for Sora to finally spit out whatever it was he was trying to say.

The bell rang. Sora's jaw snapped shut with an audible click as his teeth gnashed together, the brunet all but running to dive into his seat in the very back row just as Mr. Leonhart cleared his throat from the front of the classroom. He could feel his cheeks burning as a few of his classmates stared even more than usual, some of them glancing back and forth between Sora and Riku as though trying to puzzle out the almost-exchange.

Sora was totally, totally Molly Ringwald.

**Friday**:

"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday," Sora sang, making his voice as nasally as possible as he shook his hips slightly, giving his open locker a private show. It wasn't a particularly exciting Friday...in fact, Sora was kind of bitter about it really, but maybe he just needed a nice long weekend of dancing around to a bad-pop-song-playing greeting card. "Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend."

"Are you?"

Sora froze. He hadn't heard that voice that many times before, and never directed at him, but he recognized it instantly. He turned slowly, desperately trying to arrange his face into something that didn't resemble utter mortification. More likely than not, Sora probably looked constipated right now. "Am I what?" he asked lamely.

"Are you looking forward to the weekend?" Riku asked, smirking slightly as he inclined his head towards the younger boy, staring pointedly at the previously-wriggling hips.

"Oh that," Sora muttered. God, he bet his face was on _fire_right now. "Uh, I mean, I'm sure it'll be alright. Coulda been better, but yeah."

"Just a fan of the song then?" Riku exhaled slightly, like the ghost of a laugh. Sora wasn't sure if the taller boy was laughing _at_ him or _with _him, but with wouldn't be bad. He wouldn't mind making Riku laugh for real.

"Not really," Sora laughed nervously. Oh god, the word vomit. It was coming. Crapcrapcrap. "My brother was singing it this morning, he's all excited 'cause he gets to go visit his boyfriend for the weekend, he left as soon as school ended. Man he'd kill me if he knew I told you that, Roxas would just about die if anyone knew he liked that song."

Riku was smirking a little wider, or maybe he was almost smiling, Sora wasn't really sure. He hadn't moved on beyond the fact that here he was, casually chatting with _Riku_like it was no big thing, about Roxas and his stupid pyro and that god-awful Rebecca Black blasphemy-to-music thing.

"Roxas has a boyfriend, huh?" Riku asked, raising an eyebrow. Sora frowned. If Riku turned out to be some homophobic jackass he was going to cry himself to sleep every night from now until graduation.

He nodded. "This guy Axel from back home."

"Cool," Riku nodded too, like he was reiterating Sora's affirmation. "What about you? You got a boyfriend back on the mainland too? Or a girlfriend, I guess."

"No." Sora fought very, very hard to keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. "Definitely none of the above."

"Good. Cause listen, I know this is going to sound kind of crazy. I mean, we've never really hung out before or anything like that, and maybe I'm just making wild assumptions here and I'm actually about to make a total ass of myself, but do you know the band Motion City Soundtrack? They're playing a show tonight, over at the Crazy Donkey in Destiny Harbor and uh, I have an extra ticket." Riku talked even faster than Sora did, stumbling slightly over the words as he rubbed one hand against the back of his neck. Sora felt the corner of his lip curl up slightly. Did he make Riku _nervous_? And did Riku really just say that it was good that he didn't have a boyfriend?

"I love Motion City, actually. I was dying to go to the show tonight, but I didn't know anyone who would go with me," Sora admitted. He'd almost forgotten for a second why he'd been so bummed just a few minutes ago. And now it was even worse, because now it looked like Riku totally would have gone with him if he'd just put on his damn big-boy-boxers and _asked him_, and now the tickets were sold out and they couldn't even go and...hang on. "Did you just say you had an extra ticket?"

"Well," and now Riku was blushing under those shiny silver bangs, and hot damn if it wasn't just the cutest thing Sora had ever seen. "I mean, I bought a ticket for myself. Then I bought a second one...kind of hoping that maybe I could get you to come to the show with me. And maybe we could grab a burger or something at Way to the Dawn? I mean, if you wanted to."

"Like...a date?"

"It doesn't have to be," Riku said defensively. "It doesn't. It's cool if you just want to go to the show, it's going to be a great show and we could just go as friends and it would be totally cool and – mgph."

Sora placed one hand firmly over Riku's lips, effectively muffling the other boy's words to mere mumbles that vaguely resembled protest. "If you were asking me on a date," he said carefully, looking Riku straight in the eye, "I would definitely, definitely say yes."

Riku's mouth curled into a smile under Sora's palm, lips brushing against the skin of his hand as they moved. Sora returned the grin as he pulled away again, relishing the way Riku's smile sent little jolts of electricity down his spine to bounce around in his stomach.

"I've got two tickets to Motion City, baby," Riku murmured, offering one hand out to Sora as the brunet reached behind him to close the locker. Sora took the proffered hand, fighting to refrain from grinning even wider. _Riku was quoting song lyrics at him_. "Come with me Friday, don't say maybe."

"Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby like you."


	21. You and I

So I says to myself, I says "self, aren't you obsessed with Lady Gaga? Like, insanely obsessed with Mother Monster?" "why yes, yes I am, this is very true." "well then, why the fuck haven't you written a story for a single Gaga song yet?" "..."

this story is littered with references to the song, both in direct song lyric quotes and in just referencing certain things Gaga mentions (whiskey, New York City, Nebraska...). all of these belong to the genius that is Mother Monster, I am just a faithful Little Monster worshipping the shit out of her.

* * *

**Title**: You and I  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Yoü and I" by Lady Gaga

* * *

Roxas swung his apartment door open on the third knock, one hand curled over the door knob, the other wrapped around the tumbler glass of whiskey he hadn't quite managed to put down on his way to the door.

The glass shattered against the floor upon impact.

"Hey," Axel said casually. One hand scrubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, fingers threaded through the hair on his nape. Hair, Roxas noted faintly, that was now long enough for it to be pulled into a ponytail that could rival Riku's (the last time he had seen Axel the older man had had a fauxhawk that was just long enough for Roxas to tangle his fingers in, not even long enough to fall down into Axel's green green green eyes).

Roxas raked his gaze greedily over the man standing on his doorstep, taking in the spiky auburn hair and burning malachite eyes, framed by a single stud pierced through one eyebrow (old) and two purple tears on his cheeks (new). He was tan, a spray of freckles across his nose like he'd recently spent a lot of time outside, that weathered look skin gets from really _being _outside, not just playing a casual game of frisbee on the lawn or something. Roxas memorized the way the white v-neck t-shirt clung to Axel's thin arms and narrow waist (sleeve on his right arm almost finished, new black script inking up his left wrist), took note of the aviators hanging from the cotton V of the shirt's collar.

It was the shoes, a battered but obviously well-loved pair of red Chuck Taylor hi-tops, that had Roxas choking on the air he'd been trying to inhale. They were the exact same pair Axel had left with, right down to the small, crooked R wedged into one corner of the right shoe (Roxas himself had Sharpied that on. He'd told Axel it was so that he'd always know which was the right foot to start off on, but they both really knew it was so Axel wouldn't forget about him).

"A-axe–" he stuttered breathlessly. Axel gave him a sheepish smile, head still ducked down towards the ground.

"Rox?" Sora had finally come out of the kitchen, no doubt wondering what was taking his brother so long. "Rox, wha – oh. Oh." Sora stopped dead in his tracks, blinking owlishly at the pair in the doorway before twisting around to holler over his shoulder. "Riku! Riku, you need..."

Sora's boyfriend came barreling into the hallway like the building was on fire, no doubt terrified by the sharp tone lacing the brunet's words. He too stopped short upon catching sight of the front door, mouth falling open as Axel finally wrenched his gaze away from Roxas and glanced up at Riku. "Holy fucking shit," Riku whooped, "holy shit, you're back."

He closed the distance between them before anyone else even moved, crossing the hallway in a few long strides, glass and ice crunching under his feet. Roxas shuffled soundlessly out of the way, eyes still glued to Axel's figure as though he were afraid that the older man would disappear if he looked away. Riku, it seemed, hadn't been stunned to immobility the way Roxas had. He yanked Axel forward the last few feet and threw his arms around his best friend, the pair of them laughing as Axel finally stumbled over the threshold, returning the fierce hug just as enthusiastically.

"You have tattoos," Riku said flatly, finally pulling back enough to look at Axel. He kept both hands firmly on the redhead's shoulders; it appeared that Roxas wasn't the only one afraid of him disappearing. "On your face."

"Yeah, fucker, missed you too," Axel scoffed, shoving Riku away playfully. Riku rolled his eyes, but even Mr. Moody-Emo-Boy himself couldn't keep the face-splitting grin from his lips. "Got them on the street in India during Holi," he said calmly, as though coming back from a foreign country none of them had known he was in with ink on his face was perfectly normal (then again, for Axel, it kind of was now).

"India?"

"India," Axel reiterated, smiling slightly. "India, Indonesia, Thailand, Australia. Spent the last six months bouncing around that area, you know."

They hadn't. Axel hadn't so much as sent them a postcard, none of them, not one. None for Riku, Axel's best friend since they were four, practically his own brother. None for Sora, who, if Riku was practically Axel's brother, was practically Axel's brother-in-law. None for Roxas, who, well...who would have appreciated hearing from Axel every now and then. It would have been nice to know the other man was alive, at least.

"Jesus," Riku whistled, shaking his head. The movement brought Roxas back into his line of vision, wide-eyed and pale-faced, and Riku's whole expression changed. The older man turned back to Axel with a business-like nod, clapping him on the shoulders once more before stepping back fully out of the embrace. "Well," he said carefully, glancing back over his shoulder at Sora. Sora already had Riku's jacket in hand, keys dangling from his palm. He wouldn't even look at Axel. "Obviously you didn't know Sora and I were going to be here when you showed up, so we should probably get out of the way. Let you guys talk. Give me a call tomorrow, whenever, in a few days, okay? We'll catch up."

"Yeah," Axel said quickly, stepping out of the doorway. He shot Sora a look, just to see if the brunet was going to acknowledge his presence before leaving. Apparently not. "Yeah, I promise, Reeks."

Riku smiled faintly at the old nickname. It had been almost two years since he'd heard it last; its usage was reserved strictly for Axel. He waited until Sora had already stormed out the still-open door (probably best not to piss him off more than he already was, Sora was already beyond furious at Axel, didn't need to add his own boyfriend to that list too) before turning back around. "Missed the shit out of you, Ax."

And then there were two.

Axel finally leaned forward, gently tugging the door from Roxas' slackened grip and closing it quietly behind them. Neither of them moved much further than that, Roxas still standing nearly against the wall, Axel shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot as he slowly dropped his duffle to the floor.

They had met on Axel's 22nd birthday at a surprise party Riku had planned. He'd invited the then-20-year-old Roxas mostly as a gesture of goodwill; Sora and Riku had just gotten together back then and the jury was still out on whether or not Roxas liked his twin's new boyfriend. They'd joked, later on, in the four years between the Halloween surprise party and the day Axel left, that introducing Roxas to his soulmate was one hell of a way to earn brownie points with the family. The soulmate part had only been partially joking.

It had been almost silly, really. Roxas had been late to the party; he missed the surprise and the general grace period for introductions, he didn't even know who Axel was. All he knew was that he'd gone to the party dressed as Rocky, from Rocky Horror, and the most incredible creature Roxas had ever laid eyes on was dressed as Frank-n-Furter, and it had taken the two of them a grand total of five minutes of drunken conversation before they were ditching the party entirely for a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show they both agreed they'd rather go to.

They never dated, not officially, they never even kissed. It was always an inevitability, everyone knew that, including both of them, but somehow, they'd just never gotten around to it. They were, for all intents and purposes, practically dating anyway, and at the very least had developed a friendship to rival even the then-twenty-year-strong one between Axel and Riku.

"Hi," Axel said again, quietly. He sounded horribly unsure of himself, a tone of voice Roxas wasn't sure he'd ever heard before in the assertive redhead. Axel was all charm and charisma, smooth grace and a smoother tongue: confidence was hardly something he lacked.

"Hi," Roxas said back automatically. They stared helplessly at each other, neither knowing that they were both thinking the exact same thing. They'd imagined this day, this moment, so many times over the last two years, and now that they were finally in it, face to face for the first time in _months_, neither one of them could find the words they'd both practiced a thousand times over.

"Roxas."

His name came out like a breath, an exhalation bordering on a sigh, like it was a relief for Axel to roll those syllables off his tongue again. Roxas imagined the redhead hadn't much cause to say his name in recent months. He personally had put a ban on even thinking the other man's name, let alone uttering it out loud.

"Roxas...I...I don't –"

"Did it work?" Roxas asked quietly. They weren't the words he'd meant to say. He wasn't even sure what he'd meant to say, really. He'd thought it over so many times. Sometimes he screamed at him, ripped into him until Roxas' voice gave out and they were both crying and Axel finally, finally felt as miserable and alone as Roxas had been every day since he left. Sometimes Roxas poured his heart out right there wherever it was that he'd run into Axel; on the steps outside their apartment, in the grocery store, on a narrow street in a far away city. Sometimes they barely used words at all, just lips and hands and tongues as they barely managed to pant out desperate confessions of love and longing between moans.

Axel looked lost, like he didn't quite know what Roxas was asking him. Roxas wondered vaguely how many languages the other man spoke now, how many different ways Roxas could ask the question before Axel understood it.

Two years after that Halloween, when Roxas finally joined Axel in the world of "college graduate," he'd moved out of his dorm and into the spare bedroom in Axel's apartment. The nearly-inseparable pair became infinitely more so once they were living together; very rarely did you find one without the other. It was true love, some their friends would tease them. It must be, others would laugh in response, how else could they put up with all the banalities of a relationship and none of the sex?

It had been St. Patrick's Day. Roxas remembered it, as if he was ever going to forget the day that Axel had left, because in one of those hideously dark moments in the week after he suddenly thought of that old John Mayer song about winter relationships being safe until St. Patrick's Day. The thought had made him laugh until he started choking on his own tears, a sound that was apparently terrifying enough to wake both Sora and Riku and send them sprinting into their guest bedroom.

Axel had been insistent on the fact that he wasn't leaving Roxas. Roxas, he swore, was the only reason he hadn't left sooner, had been the only thing that kept him here, anchored and needed and content. Sometimes Roxas felt horribly guilty about that, that he'd been holding the other man back from his dreams. It had always been Axel's dream to travel the world, to pack up nothing more than a duffle bag after graduation and hop the next plane to anywhere, traveling at random and experiencing life on a whim.

He needed to find himself. That's what he'd told Roxas. He'd wanted to take some time to figure out who, exactly, Axel Sanchez was, away from all the things that defined him here. He couldn't just be Reno's kid brother, Riku's best friend, one half of Axel-and-Roxas anymore. College was over and grad school was over and all Axel had to show for it was a BA in English and a Masters in Journalism. How was he supposed to figure out which was the right direction to go in his future if he didn't even know which was the right foot to step off on?

Roxas didn't have an answer. Nor did he have an argument for why Axel should stay further than "what about me?" So instead he'd gone to the store, bought Axel a brand new pair of red Chuck Taylor hi-tops, and Sharpied an R into the corner just above the right pinky toe. That night, the night before Axel would sneak out of their apartment before Roxas was even awake, Axel crept silently into Roxas' room and slid into bed next to him. Neither of them spoke as Axel wrapped his arms around Roxas, the smaller blond lacing their fingers together as he pressed himself as close to Axel as possible without actually climbing under the other man's skin.

"Did what work?"

"Did you find yourself?" Roxas clarified. He was careful, so careful, with his tone. He wanted Axel to know that it was a serious question, that he genuinely meant it, and not that he was trying to patronizing or vindictive.

"I was offered a job," Axel said.

Roxas blinked. Out of everything he'd expected the taller man to say, that hadn't been it. It certainly didn't answer his question, and frankly, he didn't really see what it had to do with anything. Axel, though, appeared to be on a roll now that he'd finally gotten the words out.

"I was offered a job," he said again. "I wrote a lot while I was gone. Notebooks and notebooks full. Occasionally fiction, something that was inspired by wherever I was or the people I met, but mostly letters." Axel smiled half-heartedly, finally meeting Roxas' eyes. He'd seen lapis lazuli for the first time in person when he'd been in Egypt: seeing the exact color of Roxas' eyes for the first time in a year had made him fall to his knees right there in the middle of the museum.

"What kind of letters?"

"Letters to you," Axel elaborated. They both knew, despite the sharp intake of Roxas' breath, that the explanation hadn't really been necessary. "I wrote you every day, Rox. Told you all about the Pyramids of Giza and family I found in Ireland that was convinced I was a long-lost relative. Wrote about how the stars in Nebraska compared to the stars in New York City and yes, got incredibly sappy over the thought of whether or not you were looking at the same sky. There are 723 letters, one for every day I was gone."

Roxas wasn't sure, but it was very, very possible that he was crying. And he was even less sure about this one, but it was very, very possible that Axel was too. "How does that translate to you having a job?" He choked out, watching Axel through a tear-blurry stare.

"I lost one of the notebooks when I was in New Zealand," Axel continued. "This woman, Tifa Lockhart, picked it up somewhere and found a way to get it back to me. Thing is, apparently she works as an editor for a popular travel magazine in Japan, and she wants to send me around the world to all different places and have me write different "letters from wherever" for the magazine."

The supportive best friend in Roxas wanted to be ecstatic for his friend. This was the kind of opportunity Axel had barely even dared hope for; everything he ever wanted to do in life, all rolled into one fantastic job that would actually pay him to do what he loved. The selfish, hopelessly in love part of him felt the dull throb of his heart dropping to somewhere below the pit of his stomach.

"You're leaving again," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. Roxas could barely even muster up the emotion to make it a question, let alone the enthusiasm to pretend to be happy for him. But Axel was already shaking his head frantically, and before Roxas could stop him the redhead had taken a step forward, reaching both hands up as though to grab Roxas before he thought better of it.

"You asked me if I found myself," Axel reminded the blond, dropping his hands back down to his sides. "If it worked. Well, it did and it didn't. Yeah, the experience...Roxas, it was incredible. Indescribable. I saw and felt and learned more in the last two years than most people get in a lifetime. But the most important thing I learned was that shit, Rox, it didn't mean a damn thing without you."

Roxas blinked. And again. "W-what?"

"Trying to figure myself out without you was like trying to put together a puzzle with half the pieces missing." Axel finally moved. He closed the space between them and this time when he lifted his hands, he followed through with it, cupping Roxas' jaw between both palms. "I just...there's something about you and I, Rox."

Roxas wasn't sure what it was that sent him over the edge. Maybe it was the fact that, for all intents and purposes, Axel had just professed his love for him (because Roxas knew the other man well enough to know that _that_had been a love confession, regardless of whether or not the word love had been uttered). Maybe it the way he'd said it, like Roxas was his other half, and the way it resonated within Roxas as exactly what he'd felt every day since he'd met the man. If he had to guess though, if he'd really been forced to put much thought into it, it was probably the feeling of Axel's hands on his face, big palms warm against his jaw, calloused fingers pressing lightly against his skin, the tangible evidence that Axel was really here, so close that they were sharing the same air with every breath.

Roxas wrapped both arms around Axel's neck and tugged the redhead down, pressing himself up on his toes and meeting the other man halfway. It was hardly perfect. Roxas still had tears streaming down his face and he was having a hard time balancing on his toes, even with his arms around Axel's shoulders for support, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that Axel was pressing him back into the wall and Roxas was simultaneously pushing himself forward and pulling Axel tighter against him and that Axel tasted like a bizarre combination of cigarettes and a vanilla milkshake and mint and that they'd been building up to this for six whole years and somehow, miraculously, it didn't disappoint.

Axel broke away first, pulling back with a small gasp of air. Roxas settled back down onto his heels slowly; Axel followed, bending his head far enough to rest his forehead gently against Roxas'. Both men kept their eyes closed, reassured enough by the touch of their skin and the scent of Roxas' hair and the sound of Axel's heartbeat and the taste still lingering on their lips that they didn't need sight to prove their existence.

"Come with me," Axel said quietly.

Roxas felt the small puff of each exhalation against his still-parted lips, waiting until the sensation faded before trying to make sense of Axel's words. "Go with..."

"It's a lot to ask for," Axel said hastily. "I know. And I won't blame you if you can't, or don't want to. It's reckless and impulsive and stupid, but Roxas, I came back for you, and this time I'm not leaving without you, so either we're going together or we're not going at all."

Roxas pulled back carefully, just enough that he could open his eyes and look Axel square in the heart of his malachite stare. He slid his arms down slowly, moving one hand from the back of Axel's neck to the sharp curve of his pointed jaw.

"You idiot," Roxas said fondly, thumb stroking the flesh of Axel's cheek, smoothing over the purple marks. "I've had my bag packed since the day you left." 

* * *

I smother you all in fluff.

This weekend I did a TON of writing. A ton. I literally ignored my cell phone all weekend in favor of writing. And yet...absolutely none of it can be posted up here yet. I outlined two one-shots and started writing one of them, I also outlined the first 15 chapters of _Living Proof_, the multichapter (I won't start writing it until the entire thing is outlined). I feel so productive, but none of that is shareable yet. I had to do SOMETHING to say hi to y'all, so I wrote this out real quick. It sounded better in my head, but whatever.


	22. Enchanted

in January, when I wrote this, my sister begged me not to post it and to write a longer story for it. the other day she re-read it and decided she was wrong. go figure. at least it's a little something new for you guys, right? (I'm working on chapter 3, _I promise_. And about four other one-shots, oh god, why am I such a masochist?)

**edit**: _guysI'msoembarrassed. _someone AWESOME and clearly much more on the up and up than I reminded me that the whole reason _The Divine Comedy _was originally so spectacular was because it was written in the vernacular Italian and not Latin. SOSTUPID. correction has been corrected. sorry I fell asleep in Studies of European Literature every day, Professor Pribic. 

* * *

**Title:** Enchanted  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift 

* * *

Roxas swirled the glass in his hands like the practiced wine connoisseur he was only pretending to be, staring at the miniature whirlpool forming in the deep goblet. He shouldn't admit it, would never say it out loud, but he was bored out of his mind. It was his cousin's rehearsal dinner, for goodness sake. His cousin, one of his best friends since they were in diapers together, who he never got to see anymore since he'd left the islands for school in the big city four years ago, was marrying the girl of his dreams. Roxas should be so hyped up on excitement for Sora and happiness at being reunited with his family that he couldn't see straight, and yet...

It was hard, coming home like this. HBU was dead in the heart of Radiant Gardens; Roxas was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city on all sides no matter what time of the day or what day of the week, and he'd gotten used to it. To be here, back on Destiny Islands, where life moved at a snail's pace and he known nearly every islander since he, or they, had been born was quite a big difference from life in the city.

He glanced down at his glass again with a small sigh, resisting the urge to finish it in one long drag. The dinner party was at _Oblivion_, the restaurant owned by Sora's best friend, and best man, Riku. Riku had always been just a little bit too big for this small town world, and his restaurant reflected that taste. It was the closest to a high-class restaurant they had on their tiny island, but even then: it was a far cry from a garden wedding in the city. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Roxas registered that he had become an enormous snob.

The blond pulled himself out of his wine at the sound of his sister's laughter, glancing around the open patio as he searched for the source. Naminé was Kairi's maid of honor, so he wasn't surprised to find her standing next to the bride-to-be in a beautiful lavender cocktail dress, one hand fluttering lightly against her throat as she laughed. Kairi glowed in that way that only a bride about to marry her soulmate did, blue eyes sparkling with the same laughter as her best friend. Roxas thought at first that it was just the two of them, giggling away together the way they had for as long as he could remember, before he saw a third figure with them.

He stood with his back to Roxas, but the blond could still see the one hand gesticulating wildly, as though he was in the middle of telling a story to the two girls. As Roxas watched the other man, a redhead barely two shades brighter than Kairi's dark auburn, jutted one hip to the side and propped his fist on it, making both girls burst into raucous giggles for the second time in as many minutes. He towered over Kairi and Naminé, a task that wasn't particularly difficult in the presence of the two diminutive girls, but was nearly as skinny as Roxas' sister, thin button-down (deep plum purple, Roxas couldn't help but admire the man's guts, wearing a shirt like that, especially with hair like _that_) shirttail tucked neatly into the back of his narrow black dress pants.

"Roxas!" Naminé caught sight of him when the redheaded man shifted his weight, waving over his shoulder at her brother. "Rox, come here and meet Axel."

Axel, apparently, turned around, undoubtedly looking for the source of Naminé's distraction, and Roxas' was fairly certain that he stopped breathing.

The redhead was flawless. Stunning. The plum-hued collar (it really did look fantastic on him, despite the bold choice of color), gave way to a long, graceful neck and smooth jaw, high, sharp cheekbones adorned with two tiny, surprisingly tasteful purple marks on the fleshy part of each cheek. It was his eyes, though, an unnatural shade of green that usually only existed in semi-precious stones, framed by long black eyelashes and what Roxas suspected might be a subtle hint of eyeliner, that had Roxas struggling for breath, his heart stuttering in his chest.

They stared at each other, both frozen in their half-turned stances, both completely immune to the sound of Naminé and Kairi calling both their names. He must be a relative of Kairi's, if the red hair wasn't a dead giveaway then the fact that Roxas had never seen him before certainly was. _Do not_, Roxas commanded mentally, _be in any way, shape, or form related to me by anything other than a marriage contract between distant cousins_.

"Roxas!" Naminé's voice finally broke through the haze he had suddenly found himself in. He wrenched away from the fixated stare, turning his blue eyes on the girl now standing at his elbow. She grinned at him with an all-too-knowing smile. Crafty didn't look good on his twin, that was a look better left to him. "Come on, you have to meet Axel. He's Kairi's cousin, and he also lives in the city." She linked an arm through his and led his unresisting body back in the direction of the two redheads. Axel made no effort to pretend he wasn't watching Roxas' every step. "He's also," she whispered conspiratorially, "ridiculously, ridiculously hot. Just in case you hadn't noticed."

"Roxas!" Kairi cooed, and Roxas took a brief moment to acknowledge that the next woman to exclaim his name was going to get the mother of all death stares, right before Kairi reached over and pulled him from Naminé's grasp, dragging him the rest of the way toward her. "This is Axel. Axel goes to HBU, too, I can't believe you two haven't met already."

"I'd like to think," Axel chuckled, and Roxas tried unsuccessfully to pass off the shiver running down his spine as a result of the imaginary gust of wind that hit him and only him, "that if I met someone like Roxas I would remember him." He held out his free hand; the other, Roxas could finally see, was occupied by what looked like a rum and coke. Roxas slid his own hand into the proffered limb, and both men held on for absolutely longer than strictly necessary for a first handshake. The blond tried not to feel disappointed at the loss of the redhead's warmth against his skin.

"Hollow Bastion's a pretty big school," Roxas reminded the girls, though his eyes lingered on Axel. "We easily could have gone four years without ever even seeing each other."

"You do look familiar though," Axel cocked his head to the side, brazenly studying the smaller man with a full head-to-toe body scan. Roxas burned under the scrutiny, thrilled by the feeling of those breathtaking eyes looking at him like he was something to be devoured.

"Maybe we shared a class? Lived in the same wing of the dorms or something?" Roxas suggested, though he knew both were highly improbable. He would have remembered someone that tall, with hair that bright, and eyes that green. Axel shook his head.

"No," and there was no doubt in his smooth voice. Smooth, like melted chocolate and quality scotch, dripping down Roxas' spine like warm drizzled honey. "No, trust me, I would have remembered you."

"Well how funny is that, then," Kairi giggled, and Roxas had nearly forgotten that she and Naminé were there. "Here you two are, both students at the same school in a city a thousand miles from here, and yet you didn't meet until Roxas came back home. Funny the way the world works. Come on, Nam, lets go see if we can get Riku drunk enough to admit that he has a crush on you." Kairi all but dragged her blonde best friend away, arms linked and heads bent together as they scurried away from the two men.

"Subtlety," Axel raised one eyebrow, envy green eyes on the bride-to-be, "has never been something my cousin wasted her time with. But I, for one, am not complaining."

"I could imagine several much, much worse candidates for Kairi and Naminé to abandon me with," Roxas agreed. Axel's raised eyebrow turned back to face him, as though he wasn't expecting the blond to be as open in his flirting as he was. He obviously knew Naminé, but for all that they, as twins, had in common, Roxas was not his sister.

"For example," he leaned into the taller redhead conspiratorially, gesturing the man down to his height so he could lower his voice enough not to be overheard. "They could have left me with...Grandpa Yen Sid." Roxas tilted his wine glass in the direction of the older man standing by the dessert table, one hand resting on Sora's shoulder as he lectured the poor groom. Axel snickered quietly, smirking at the 'god, please, someone save me," expression on the brunet's face.

"What about Marluxia?" The redhead nodded towards a man with hair approximately the same color as the flowers in the centerpieces standing in the corner by the bar. Cloud, Roxas' older brother, stood with his back flat against the wall, pinned in place by Marluxia's hands resting on either side of his head. "Marly's been with my cousin Larxene," and now Axel pointed at a blonde at the bar, glaring at the pair against the wall with sparks flying from her eyes, "for years, but whenever he gets too drunk he forgets that he likes girls and hits on the nearest blond male."

"That's my brother," Roxas laughed. Cloud looked, for lack of a better word, mortified. "He's probably never had this much attention from another man in his life."

"Well," Axel looked contemplative again, sizing up the other blond. "I can't imagine that's true, what with those looks, but I promise I'll keep you safe all the same. Just in case Marly loses interest and realizes that the better looking Strife brother is the one talking to me."

Roxas, for all his smooth talking and brazen flirting, turned pink. He hid the flush behind his oversized glass as he hastily took a sip, waiting until he could feel the color on his cheeks fading before glancing back up at the redhead. Axel made no effort to pretend he hadn't been watching the shorter man, one corner of his lip curled into a particularly enticing smirk. Roxas was such a sucker for a good smirk, and Axel apparently gave _great_smirk.

"What's your pleasure?" he asked the blond, nodding at the pale liquid in the glass. "I saw the way you were studying it earlier, it must be absolutely fascinating."

"Oh, and were you enjoying the show?" Roxas teased. It was Axel's turn to blush, apparently realizing what he'd unwittingly just admitted. The blond took pity on the man, laughing softly before shrugging, not waiting for an answer. "It's Riesling. Not sure what bottle specifically, Riku knows me well enough to pick for me."

The redhead recovered from his embarrassment gracefully, raising one auburn eyebrow at the young man standing in front of him.

"I always took Riesling to be more of a dessert wine than a cocktail drink." He wasn't remotely judging, simply conversational, a distinction that Roxas found both intriguing and appealing. It was true, he would have been better off with a glass of pinot, or maybe a nice chardonnay, but he hadn't yet sunk so low into snobbish scene culture that he would sacrifice his taste buds for the sake of a socially acceptable glass of wine.

"I don't like particularly tart wines," Roxas explained, swirling his glass once between his fingers. "Besides, nobody is going to look at this and realize that I'm drinking the wrong white. Half of them probably don't even know the difference." He hadn't intended the last bit to be out loud, and certainly not in that derisive tone, and now he felt like a proper idiot, all but insulting the islanders that obviously made up not just his family, but also Axel's.

"Oh I see," the redhead teased, but it was light and airy, completely casual and unstrained, "sheltered little island boy went off to the big bad city, and now he's too big to fit into his old britches."

"Did you honestly just use the expression 'too big for his britches?'" Roxas snorted. It was effortless the way Axel dispelled his embarrassment, endearing the way the redhead completely disregarded any of the usual awkwardness of first meeting someone. "Really, I don't think I've ever heard anyone but my Gramps say that. How old are you, seventy?"

"22!" Axel defended, pretending to be affronted. "And as a writer, I claim rights to antiquated and otherwise rarely-used idioms."

"You're a writer?"

Axel shrugged, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Interesting. The older man was perfectly willing to brazenly flirt with Roxas, and confident enough to walk into a room full of either strangers or family members in a bold-colored shirt that all but highlighted the ink on his face, but appeared uncomfortable with talking about himself.

"English major with a concentration in creative writing," he admitted. "I've had a story or two published in one of the smaller city newspapers, but that's really it."

"Impressive," Roxas nodded appreciatively. Axel was being modest, he didn't have to know anything about writing to figure that out. Even the small newspapers in Radiant Gardens were pretty well-circulated, to be published not once but multiple times was absolutely an achievement.

"What about you?" Axel dodged the next question building on Roxas' tongue easily, smiling evasively at the blond. "What do you do around campus when you're not making all the little scene girls swoon?"

"Are you calling me scene?" Roxas accused. Fine, maybe he'd seen fit to wear his Chucks instead of nice shoes with his dress pants (they were _pristine_, and people did it all the time in the city), and okay, maybe his entire outfit consisted of somewhat monochromatic black and white with subtle shocks of red, and yes, he did still have his Wayfarers hanging from the v of his button-down from back before the sun went down and the balcony was way too bright for his pale eyes, but none of these things made him a _scene_ _kid_.

"I like scene kids," Axel shot back, malachite eyes glittering over the rim of his tumbler as he paused for a sip of his nearly untouched drink. "I mean, mostly clean with just a little dash of punk and a pinch of rock and a light seasoning of emo is ideal, but scene kids are fun too."

"I am _not_ a scene kid." Roxas insisted. Were Axel anyone else, were they anywhere else, this would be where Roxas got defensive, even a little aggressive. "And no matter what I am, I'm definitely not a _kid_."

"Fine, fine," Axel held his hands up in mock surrender, three fingers wrapped somewhat precariously around his glass. "You're not a scene kid. But you still didn't tell me what you do at HBU. I know you're not an English major, I more or less stalk the department on a regular basis, I would have met you by now."

"Pre-law." What was this _modesty_creeping into his tone? Roxas usually loved talking about his major, subtly impressing upon people the fact that he spoke two dead languages and knew the basic organization of every government within a five world radius of theirs. "Officially double-majoring in Government and Classics."

"Classics, huh? Kind of a broad term, isn't it? I'm assuming you're not referring to literary classics."

"Well," the shorter blond imitated Axel's earlier move, running a hand through the hair on the nape of his neck as he tried to find an answer that would impress the older man without coming off as bragging. "I've read some classical literature. _The Iliad _and _The Odyssey, The Aeniad_. I took a class one semester that was entirely devoted to Dante's _The Divine Comedy_."

"I wanted to take that class!" Axel's eyes lit up, his whole body animated as he started getting into a subject he obviously cared a lot about. "I love _The Divine Comedy_, and I thought it would be so cool to spend a whole semester on it, but they were reading the book in its original...hang on, you speak Italian?"

Roxas drained the rest of his glass of wine, desperately stalling. And Latin. And Ancient Greek. Almost as well as he spoke English, actually, but admitting something like that moved beyond impressing the older redhead; it simply straddled the line between bragging and being a dork.

"Yeah. Reading the _Inferno_was the best part. I love the different levels of Hell and how much thought Dante puts into making the punishment really reflect the crime." Axel was an English major, he'd appreciate that, hopefully enough that he wouldn't realize how incredibly lame Roxas sounded, face to face with the hottest man he'd ever met, having completely exhausted his magical lucky stroke of smoothness and now talking about, of all things, classical literature.

"That's absolutely the best part of the epic. Absolutely. It's also the best part of the composition. Have you ever heard it?" Roxas shook his head, and Axel barreled on without pause, clearly on a roll with a topic he was enjoying. "Robert W. Smith wrote it, my high school marching band did an adaptation of it my junior year. It was the closest we ever came to winning at championships, shot down by less than half a point."

"You were in marching band?"

"Well yeah," Axel snorted, amused smile dancing across his handsome features. "Come on, Roxas, you can't tell by now that I'm a _huge_ dork? I must be losing my touch." Relief flooded Roxas, a stronger wave of it than he'd originally thought he'd feel. He actually liked this guy, really _liked_him, more than the fact that he was really, really, ridiculously good-looking.

"I like dorks," Roxas said slyly, smirking up at the look of pleasant surprise on the redhead's face. "In fact –"

They were interrupted by the sound of silver against glass, Riku drawing everyone's attention to the fact that dinner was being served and they needed to find their seats. Roxas turned back to Axel with a small, but completely genuine, smile on his face.

"I need to go play dutiful groomsman now," he said regretfully. Roxas knew it was readily apparent on his face that he would have liked nothing more than to spend the rest of the night standing right here talking to Axel, just as well as he knew he could read the same sentiment on the redhead's pale features. "I probably won't get a chance to see you again before tomorrow night."

"I don't have a date," Axel said suddenly. Roxas raised an eyebrow, but even then the small smile didn't leave his lips. _Thank god_.

"I don't either," he said honestly, lifting his chin to level his gaze more firmly on the other man's face. For the first time in his life he understood why magic words like enchant, bewitch, charm could be used to describe one's effect on a person. Axel was enchanting and Roxas was completely enchanted by him, bewitched by the very essence of the redhead and drinking him in with every sense he possessed.

Axel reached up with his free hand, knuckles ghosting over the fair skin of Roxas' chin, thumb brushing once over the apple of his cheek. The blond resisted the urge to close his eyes and lean into the touch; he didn't want to stop studying the look in the older man's brilliant stare. Malachite eyes sparkled with something Roxas couldn't entirely identify, something that hadn't quite fully formed yet, but maybe had potential.

"Save me a dance, then?" Axel murmured, sliding his fingers down the blond's jaw and letting his hand fall back down at his side.

"Every one."

* * *

LOVE ME IN MY CHEESINESS.

PS. Sora and Kairi? Riku and Naminé? Not my usual, I know. A necessary plot device. Rats.  
PPS. I've been told I need to stop writing Axel as my dream boyfriend. To which I say: never.


	23. She's No You

So the other day I had the following conversation with my sister:

Me: I have a really, really important question.

Sister: Shoot.

Me: Whyyyy have I never written anything to a Jesse McCartney song?

Sister: UHH IDK BUT NOW YOU NEED TO

Me: Already started.

End result: see below.

Specifically, the song is "She's No You" by Jesse McCartney. I've tweaked the words just a little bit to make it fit better, but 99% belongs to him.

There's a video on YouTube of Jesse singing this song acoustic…but I wouldn't recommend it. Just listen to the regular album version and pretend it's acoustic. Or that Roxas has a band and a synthesizer backing him up. Whatever works for you.

* * *

**Title**: She's No You  
**Characters**: Axel/Roxas  
**Song**: "She's No You" by Jesse McCartney

* * *

It had been a spectacular row.

Really, Roxas should have seen it coming – Axel had been making snide little off-hand comments for almost the entirety of the two months they'd been dating, and he'd _seen_the look on his boyfriend's face when Kairi and her roommate Xion had walked over to them in the middle of the library. Axel had waited, though, waited until their classes were done and they were back at Roxas' off-campus apartment.

If Roxas had been paying attention he would have noticed the storm brewing in those electric green eyes, but he'd been stupid, and he'd gotten distracted, and he deluded himself into thinking he'd dodged a bullet. He'd made a passing comment about something Kairi had said, and Axel took one slow, deep breath and ripped him a new one. The redhead had been fuming, stewing in it all day, and apparently he'd had some boring classes and _plenty _of time to think about what he wanted to say. He'd raged and raged and then he left, slamming the door behind him and leaving Roxas speechless in his wake.

Naminé, the only one of Roxas' friends who knew they were dating, had appeared moments later, unapologetic about the fact that she'd heard the entire thing from her apartment next door. Axel, according to her, didn't find it remotely funny that Kairi was on a hellbent mission to set Roxas up with her roommate. Roxas had gotten that much from his boyfriend's tirade, but he didn't understand why. Naminé, more patient than a saint and a huge advocate of the fledgling relationship between the two long-time best friend, had very nearly lost her temper with him as she explained that, in Axel's eyes, Roxas' lack of firm refusal was his subtle way of encouraging Kairi's matchmaking schemes.

"I can't say I blame him," Naminé had finally snapped, and that, more than anything Axel had screamed, floored him. He had demanded an explanation from his friend, who heaved a long-suffering sigh before leveling him with the most serious look she could muster.

"Kairi has been very obviously trying for weeks and weeks to get you and Xion together, and you have never, ever, not once, said to her anything remotely along the lines of 'I have a boyfriend,' 'I'm seeing someone,' or 'my extremely possessive and insecure boyfriend would castrate me and feed me my own flesh if I tried to go on a date with someone else.'"

"Insecure?" Roxas frowned. "Axel's not insecure about anything."

"Of course he is!" Naminé threw up her hands in exasperation. "He's been in love with you since you guys were kids, you stupid boy, and now he finally, finally, has you like he never thought he would and he's just _waiting_for the other shoe to drop, for you to wake up one day and realize you're not really as bisexual as you thought, or that dating your best friend is a mistake, and you're not doing anything to prove to him that that's not going to happen!"

And something, finally, clicked into place. "He thinks I'm going to give in and go on a date with Xion?"

Naminé nodded.

"And that I'm going to realize I like her more than I like him and dump him?"

Naminé looked torn between hitting him and hugging him.

"But I'm…" nuts about him. Head over heels, over the moon. Pathetically, passionately, perfectly in love with him… "dating _him_."

Naminé looked at him like she'd heard everything he hadn't said. She nodded once, climbed to her feet, smacked him across the back of the head, hugged him, and left. Roxas, rubbing his throbbing head absently, didn't mind. Axel would be back soon, once he cooled down, and Roxas would explain. It would be fine, and the make-up sex would be out of this world, and by the end of it Axel would never doubt Roxas' feelings for him ever again.

Except Axel didn't come back. And he didn't answer any of Roxas' tentative texts or, eventually, frantic phone calls. And the next day in class, without so much as a word to his (ex?) boyfriend, Axel sat himself in the farthest possible seat from where Roxas was.

By the third day of this Roxas was starting to feel desperate, and desperate Roxas tended to do stupidly over-the-top and impulsive things. Things like calling up the campus coffee house where Axel worked part time and asking when their next open mic night was. Things like booking a slot for himself when he found out it was next Tuesday. Things like begging Axel's boss, who was apparently both a sucker for romance and a closet yaio fangirl, to make sure the redhead was on shift that night no matter what. Things like sending a mass text to all of his friends that he was going to put his music minor to good use and they weren't going to want to miss this.

And that's how he would up here, well-loved acoustic guitar in one hand and a crumbled piece of paper in the other.

"For our next performance please give a warm welcome to newcomer Roxas Strife." The emcee, some obnoxiously perky co-worker of Axels', ushered him towards a rickety stool and a mic stand.

Sora, clearly unable to contain himself, let out a loud whoop from the corner booth his friends had crammed themselves into. They were all there: his twin brother Sora, Axel's (other, because Roxas was the first and foremost) best friend Riku, Sora's best friend Kairi, her roommate Xion. Roxas' roommates Hayner and Pence, Pence's girlfriend Olette. Axel's roommate Demyx, his boyfriend Zexion. Naminé. Everyone important.

"Hey guys," Roxas nodded out into the audience, grinning slightly at his brother's answering cheer. His focus, though, was behind the small cluster of tables, back behind the bar where one redheaded barista in particular was very pointedly ignoring him, channeling every fiber of his attention into wiping down the pristine counter with a rag. Roxas smirked slightly: that would change.

"So, listen," he sighed, supposedly leaning forward to adjust the height of the mic stand until it was somewhere between his guitar and his mouth but really just making sure to time it just right. A quick glance in Kairi's direction confirmed that the redhead was just about to take a sip of her drink. Perfect.

"My boyfriend's been a total ass for the last week."

Axel froze. Roxas watched him steadily, only glancing away long enough to check very, very briefly on the table in the back corner. Riku, sputtering like a wet cat, was prissily wiping what looked like an entire mouthful of Kairi's latte from the side of his face. The blond smirked, just slightly, before turning his attention back to Axel.

His boyfriend (he hoped he hoped he hoped) still wouldn't look at him, though he hadn't quite gone back to cleaning the counter yet. Roxas could see it in the harsh set of Axel's shoulders and the way those long, thin fingers looked sharper than claws as they clutched the dishtowel; Axel was waiting with baited breath to hear what else Roxas had to say.

That was fine, he wasn't done.

"Apparently, though, I deserve it, because apparently I've been a total ass for the last two months," he continued. Axel still hadn't moved, he didn't even look like he was breathing, so Roxas spared another sidelong glance towards his friends. Kairi was still gaping at him like a fish out of water, but the rest of the table, Xion included, was looking back at him with varying degrees of smug satisfaction on their faces. They'd all already know. Bastards.

"So anyway, he's been a dick, but I've been a bigger one. The thing is, I know he's secretly a sucker for big, over-the-top, dramatic gestures, so…here goes. Xion, no offense, I'm sure you're a great girl, but I had, up until a few days ago, and hopefully still do have, a massively possessive boyfriend who I love the absolute shit out of, so I think we're better off as friends."

And the girl in question, bless her, did nothing more than lift a mug from the table in front of her, toasting it in Roxas' direction with a sporting grin on her face. "Cheers," she called over the sound of laughter from the rest of the crowd.

"And as for you, Axel…" the redhead, who had fully turned his back and was apparently still resolutely avoiding looking anywhere near the stage, twitched guiltily at the sound of his name. "Yeah, you. I'm sitting on a tall stool, on a raised platform, speaking into a microphone, and about to sing a song I wrote for you…stop pretending like you can't see me, babe."

And Roxas didn't even wait for a response before tightening his fingers around the neck of his guitar and glancing down at the words on the page he'd wedged into the mic stand.

_I know a lotta girls  
Who know they got it going on  
But nothing's ever a comparison to you.  
Now can't you see that you're the only one I really want,  
And everything I need  
is everything you do?  
_  
Axel didn't turn around right away. That was alright, because Roxas wasn't done yet, and frankly, it would be so damn anticlimactic if Axel did something stupidly dramatic before Roxas was finished with his own stupidly dramatic moment.

He was fine with sitting curled slightly over his guitar, eyes flickering meaninglessly between the scrap of lyric-covered paper and random faces in the audience. Axel would look when he was ready, and Roxas would give him time until then.

_Any girl walk by, don't matter  
Cause you're looking so much better.  
Don't ever need to get caught up in jealousy.  
She could be a super-model,  
every magazine…the cover,  
she'll never, ever mean a thing to me_

Admittedly, though, it would be nice if Axel reacted at least a little bit favorably. Roxas was pretty sure he could suffer the humiliation of being stood up on a stage in front of 50 plus people just fine, but the aftermath, when it fully sunk in that he'd not only lost his boyfriend but also his best friend, all in one fell swoop, was something that both Roxas and his liver would probably never recover from.

_She's no you…oh, no.  
You give me more than I could ever want.  
She's no you…oh no.  
I'm satisfied with the one I've got.  
Cause you're everything that I've ever dreamed,  
And she'll never, ever mean a thing to me.  
She's no you…  
She's no you.  
_  
Roxas chanced a glance towards the back of the room again, zeroing in on the redhead still standing with his back to the stage. He's got both hands braced on the countertop in front of him, the stiff line of his shoulders looking for all the world like he was stealing himself for something.

The first edges of panic were staring to creep into the corner of Roxas' mind. He'd spent the last week holding on to the desperate hope that whatever this was, whatever he'd almost destroyed between them, was reparable, but it was getting increasingly harder to do that when faced with nothing but Axel's rigid back.

Axel turned around.

_No one's ever gonna get to me  
the way you do, oh baby can't you see,  
that you're the one, the only one,  
who's ever made me feel this way?  
Nothing's ever coming even close,  
no one's ever been comparable to you. _

Roxas almost choked on the words spilling from his lips at the sight of those mesmerizing malachite eyes finally, finally locking firmly onto his. Axel was unashamedly staring at him, and Roxas marveled at the look on his boyfriend's face. It was hardly unreadable, Roxas had learned the language of Axel's facial features years and years and years ago, but rather was fascinatingly impossible to pick just _one_emotion. Wary surprise and skeptical disbelief and poorly-faked apathy and still a little bit of anger and embarrassment and something that Roxas was finally starting to recognize as that nagging fear Naminé had recognized, but underneath all of that there was still that tiny little flicker of something in Axel's eyes that made Roxas' duck his head to hide his grin.

_She's no you…oh, no.  
You give me more than I could ever want.  
She's no you…oh no.  
I'm satisfied with the one I've got.  
Cause you're everything that I've ever dreamed,  
And she'll never, ever mean a thing to me.  
She's no you…  
She's no you._

The audience, Roxas was grateful to see, seemed to realize that just because the song was over did not mean it was an appropriate time to clap. They seemed to be waiting, rather, holding their collective breath in anticipation as Roxas finally looked up again, leveling blue eyes on the boy leaning heavily against the counter behind him, looking for all the world like he wasn't quite sure he'd be able to move even if he wanted to.

"Well," fifty pairs of eyes shot to the back corner booth, several mouths falling open in shock at the sight of Riku, of all people, pushing himself to his feet. "Someone's gotta kiss this kid after a scene like that, and since _Axel's_too much of a bitch to do it…"

And oh, god, Roxas took back every snarky comment he'd ever made about what a prissy little brat Riku was sometimes and every time he'd teased him about that stupidly long hair, and sure, Riku, if you want to be gay for Sora, Roxas gives his damn blessing, because apparently Riku's words were all that Axel needed to suddenly remember how to move.

The redhead vaulted himself over the counter, weaving with practiced ease through the mess of tables and chairs until he'd drawn up level with the stage. It was almost funny really; what with the height of the stool and the slightly raised platform it was the closest Roxas had ever come to being eye-level his much taller best friend.

"You're not gonna dump me, are you?" Roxas asked wryly. "I mean, I know I can't sing for shit, but I really just made one hell of a public spectacle confessing my unending devotion to you."

Axel burst out laughing, and it was quite possibly the best sound Roxas had ever heard in his entire life. This was, he'd realized a few days ago, the longest he'd gone without hearing the redhead's voice since they were in eighth grade and they'd had a fight that lasted for two whole weeks over the proper lyrics of the song "Swing, Swing," by the All-American Rejects (Roxas had been wrong; the title may have been "Swing, Swing," but the lyrics called for three swings. He'd made his amends in end by presenting Axel with a pair of tickets to go see the band in question, and really, he was starting to see a trend in over-the-top dramatic gestures here).

The redhead took the last step up onto the stage, leaning forward to pluck the guitar out of Roxas' lap and place it gently on the ground next to them. Roxas reached out, just a little nervous, just a little cautious, and slowly hooked two fingers into the belt loops of Axel's jeans.

"No," he laughed, shaking his head and allowing Roxas to tug him forward into the space between the blond's knees. "No, definitely not. Although I might sign you up for some singing lessons."

"Thank god," Roxas sighed. Axel raised an eyebrow. "I mean," the blond clarified, "I just totally ruined my chances with Xion, so now would be a really lousy time to be single."

Axel groaned, rolling his eyes even as he lifted one hand to tilt up his boyfriend's jaw at a sharper angle.

"Too soon?" Roxas asked innocently.

"You're a huge pain in the ass, idiot" Axel snarked, and it was moments like these that Roxas would swear they could read each other's minds, because that was the same exact thing Axel had said to him almost ten years ago, when Roxas had reached up to wave two pale green tickets under the redhead's nose like a white flag of contrition.

"Yeah," Roxas nodded, grinning sheepishly, "but I'm your idiot, stupid."

"Oh for the love of god," someone yelled. It sounded suspiciously like Riku. "Shut up and kiss already, assholes!"

So they did.

* * *

It's a Jesse McCartney songfic, what did you expect, quality literature? Psht.


	24. Dream Drop Distance

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A LEGITIMATE IN-GAME SCENE AND IT RAN AWAY WITH ME. Whoops.

So uh…if you haven't seen the KH3D trailer yet…you should stop reading now. And get a tumblr. Because really, that shit's blowing up my dashboard right now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Anyway, wrote this in one sitting in under an hour while in jail. Actual jail. So...yeah.

* * *

I just have this beautiful mental image of like, there's been this black-hooded character helping Sora and Riku out of tight spots, but always from a distance, kind of like Riku himself used to help Sora. Riku has an idea of who it is, but Sora doesn't, not until he finally catches up to the guy in the cloak one day and goes to confront him, but before he can it flashes to one of those stained glass dimensions and suddenly it's not Sora anymore, but Roxas, and even though Sora didn't know who it was, Roxas always did. So Roxas calls him out on it, cause you know, he's a tad bit miffed that they've been chasing the redhead all over kingdom come and...

* * *

"I know it's you, Axel," Roxas calls. They were keeping their distance, a solid half of stained glass floor dividing them, and somehow this isn't quite how Roxas pictured it would go if he ever saw his partner again.

The man in the cloak laughs, but even from here Roxas can taste the biting edge to it. He was not, apparently, the only one who had let that festering bitterness simmer under the surface for a little too long.

"You really do remember," and it reeks of deja vu, like it hasn't been months and months and a whole different lifetime since the last time they stood like this, face to face, fingers itching to wrap around either cool metal blades or soft fleshy throats.

Roxas watches the gloved hands that reach up to grip the black leather cowl, and the world moves sluggish and slow, like they're back in Atlantica, a hundred

miles under heavy, cold water that Axel hated, until the hood falls away from all that fire-red hair.

And even though he already knew, even though he'd known all along, since the very first time he'd seen him, Roxas can't quite bite back the gasp that escapes his lips as he meets those poison-green eyes.

It's Axel, but it isn't. His face is fuller, the edges softer, shoulders broader. He looks, somehow, younger and older at the same time.

His tattoos are gone.

"Did you miss me, Roxas?"

"Axel..." He'd meant it to be strong, assertive, but somehow it came out a desperate whisper.

The redhead shakes his head, the smirk on his lips growing wider. "How did it feel, Rox? Did it hurt? Were you angry? Or do you still not know what it means to feel anything?"

"Ax–"

"No!"

One gloved hand slashes out, slicing through the air even without a chakram to cut through the empty space between them. Flames erupt in its wake, scorching hot and ten feet high, and even though they're behind Axel Roxas can somehow still see the reflection flickering in those eyes.

"My name's Lea," and he says it with a smirk and a snarl but also with a touch of pride in his tone, and the implication of Axel using his old name, his Somebody's name, is only just dawning on Roxas when he notices the familiar way his partner is holding out his hands, and the way the air under his palms is starting to twist in on itself, and Roxas is too focused on pulling his own keyblades into this world to focus on the importance of the distinction.

"Got it memorized?"

Axel – Lea – lunges forward and Roxas moves at the same time, keyblades dragging across the glass as he sprints full-on towards the redhead bearing down on him. There's no surprise in his sharp eyes, no hesitation as he raises one arm, chakram flashing in the light of the fire as it comes careening down on Roxas.

The clash of metal on metal is hardly a new sound for Roxas, and really, it's only been minutes since he last heard, through Sora's ears, the clang of a keyblade against Heartless armor, but this rings differently in his own ears. There's something distinct about the way the chakrams sound against the keyblades, something specific in the way Axel snarls at him, something running thick and heavy in the undertone of Axel's voice as he snaps biting words at Roxas.

"You left," he hisses. "You left, and you forgot me. You ran away and abandoned your friends, abandoned your home, and for what? For this?"

Roxas grits his teeth but doesn't respond, just pushes back harder, untangling Oblivion from the mess of spikes long enough to swipe at Axel's exposed side. The redhead twisted sharply out of the way of the black blade, a single tip of one chakram barely grazing Roxas' cheek.

"I had to," the blond finally insists, ducking back away from the taller man long enough to wipe his bloody cheek against his shoulder. He only just raises Oathkeeper in time to stop the next assault.

"You left, you turned your back and walked away," Axel yelled, and the way Roxas catches the chakram in the teeth of his blade contorts them until they are chest to chest, Axel's furious face bearing down on him. "You will never know what that feels like."

"I WATCHED YOU DIE."

Roxas shoves with a force he doesn't remember ever possessing, wrenching Oathkeeper down to send both weapons clattering across the stained-glass floor. Oblivion follows within the same breath, hooking a curved edge of the second spiked wheel before the tangled metal goes flying into the darkness surrounding them.

Axel stands, disarmed and panting, staring at the snarling blond with something unreadable tinting his gaze. Roxas is too infuriated, too frantic, too filled with adrenaline to contemplate the unknown expression, to wonder why Axel hasn't just called his chakrams back to him.

"Roxas…" the redhead shifts, as if to take a step forward, but Roxas has a keyblade back in his hand and leveled on Axel's chest before the black-cloaked man can even lift his foot. He, wisely, knowingly, freezes where he stands, both eyes wide as he stares at Bond of Flame hovering between them.

"You just laid there and _died_, like you had the right to give everything to Sora, to give everything _for_ Sora, and I wasn't even allowed to stop you." Roxas hitches the keyblade up slightly higher, and if his hand happens to be shaking the same way his voice is, he chooses not to acknowledge either. "At least you had the chance, had the _ability_to try to stop me. I couldn't even say goodbye."

He's shaking so hard it's become impossible to avoid, to ignore, and Axel's looking at him with that same strange expression, and Roxas is starting to realize it's the same way Riku looks at Sora when he thinks Sora isn't looking, some combination of guilt and sympathy and apology and shame and…

Longing.

Roxas' breath catches in his throat as Axel reaches out slowly, cautiously, raising one hand towards Bond of Flame and gently nudging the blade aside. The blond lets him, lets the weapon fall until it lands point-first on the ground, hanging limply from Roxas' hand as Axel carefully closes the space between them.

The redhead takes a second to tug his gloves from his hands, tossing them carelessly to the ground as he pulls himself that last step closer to Roxas, drawing up short less than a foot away from the blond.

A pale hand hovers over Roxas' cheek for a moment, like Axel's waiting for permission, or maybe because he knows the line he's about to cross and isn't quite sure that he's really going to take that dive. Roxas eyelids fall shut of their own accord, the only movement in his entire being as even his breath seems to be waiting for Axel to decide.

He feels, rather than sees, the drag of a calloused thumb across his bloody cheek, and that seems to be the cue his tightly coiled limbs have been waiting for. Roxas' eyes snap open as he drop his blade and launches himself forward, and Axel doesn't even blink as he catches the smaller boy, one arm around his waist and the other reaching up into blond spikes as Roxas wraps his arms around Axel's neck and crushes their lips together.

It's desperate and a little bit violent, and Roxas isn't sure if it's his tears or Axel's slipping down his cheeks, but he is quite certain that his grip on Axel couldn't possibly be any tighter, that the redhead couldn't pull him any closer without them physically crawling under the other's skin. Even when they pull away they don't really pull back, foreheads pressed, Axel's nose nuzzling the apple of Roxas' cheek, less than an inch between their lips as they both gasp for the same air.

"Axel," Roxas breathes, whimpers, and he can feel the redhead's skin moving against his own as he shakes his head slightly.

"Lea," he corrects, a puff of breath against Roxas' jaw, and without the threat of a chakram flying towards him, Roxas can finally process what that means. He pulls back far enough to look square into those gut-wrenching green eyes, cocking his head to the side as dawning suspicion breaks across his face.

Lea grins, moving the hand that had been cupping Roxas' head to tug one of the blond's arms from around his neck. He slides both of their hands over his own chest, under the zippered edge of the black coat, laying Roxas' palm flat over his steadily beating heart.

"You're…"

"So are you."

And Roxas knows that Lea knows, that this isn't a reunion so much as it is a second chance at a real goodbye, because nothing they've ever known in any realm on this or any other world could find a way to split a heart between two halves of the same soul. Sora can't exist without Roxas any more than Lea can exist without Axel, and nothing short of a miracle would ever let Roxas and Sora exist as two separate beings at the same time in the same world.

"Do me a favor?" And maybe their time as Nobodies wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now, maybe their years of practice at not feeling anything is the only thing that gives Roxas the strength to pull back slowly, extricating himself from Lea's grip and taking a step back. Lea watches him go with a furrowed brow but doesn't try to stop him, nodding once at Roxas' question.

"Keep an eye on Sora, he needs it, but try to actively avoid any further acts of martyrdom?"

Lea laughs slightly, brushing one hand back through his mass of red spikes as Roxas takes a second step back. He feels it coming, that slow tug in his gut, a taut cord dragging him slowly to Sora, and from the look on Lea's face, he knows it too. He's staring at the blond like he's trying to memorize his every feature, and Roxas has to look away before the intensity in Lea's gaze burns right through him.

"I'll make a valiant effort at it," Lea promises. "Dying sucked."

Roxas laughs, or maybe sobs, and the floor beneath his feet is starting to feel like nothing, and it doesn't matter that he's not ready to leave, he doesn't have a choice.

"Hey," he calls quickly, fighting against the increasingly sharper pull and the rushing sound filling his ears. Lea raises an eyebrow. "Next life?"

"Yeah," Lea nods, and even though he grins at Roxas, his voice is rough and strained. "I'll be waiting."


	25. I Want to Know Your Plans

**Title: **I Want to Know Your Plans**  
Characters: **Axel, Roxas**  
Song:** "I Want to Know Your Plans" by Say Anything

* * *

I have this thing against authors who post things on one site and don't post them on another, because it's totally unfair to people who don't creep hard enough. So I wrote this on tumblr last night, and therefore it needs to be uploaded here. I might post a few epilogues too, we'll see.

Also, this is a continuation of "Wake Up," and in the same universe as "Damn Regret" and "Inevitable."

* * *

Roxas was not going to cry.

He was so much better than that. He was out of here, leaving this godforsaken town and those godforsaken people he was supposed to call family and going to the school he'd dreamed of every day since he was old enough to understand that college was actually a real place people went to in real life, not just this abstract idea of "away" after high school.

He wasn't going to think about the fact that, while the town as a whole generally sucked, there were maybe some parts (the clock tower, the usual spot, the dock, Axel's basement) he was going to miss. He wasn't going to think about the fact that while his flesh and blood was more like a waste of bread and wine, his _family_, his Axel and his Sora and his Riku and Namine and Kairi and Demyx and Zexion and Marly and Larx and Xiggy and Lex, was perfect in the way your biologically-assigned family never could be, and they were (officially, with his departure) going to be scattered thousands of miles apart.

Roxas was not going to cry.

He'd been damned stubborn about it as he'd settled himself into his stupidly small seat on the stupidly cramped airplane, forcibly cramming his ass and his feet onto the same square foot of grimy fabric and drawing his knees into his chest, his hood up over his head.

Axel had left him the sweatshirt last night. The blond was forever borrowing his boyfriend's clothing, mostly because he liked the way they fit but _really _because he liked the way they smelled. He'd had quite a little internal fuss when he realized it would be a while before he'd be able to pilfer one of Axel's shirts again, and an even bigger one when he realized that they wouldn't smell much like Axel anymore by the next time he came home.

Somehow, despite the fact that Roxas' had never so much as thought it particularly hard in Axel's direction, his boyfriend had known well enough to surreptitiously squeeze half a dozen of his slightly-faded, deliciously-worn t-shirts into Roxas' duffle bag last night, and to accidentally drape a hoody over the back of Roxas' desk chair before sneaking out in the morning.

Roxas was not going to cry.

The sweatshirt, Axel's absolute favorite, a vintage Flynn Motorcycles design, smelled infinitely better than the stale, manufactured airplane air. Roxas pulled at the oversized sleeves until he could tug the cuffs over his fingertips, surreptitiously pressing his wrist to his cheek and inhaling the perfect combination of cotton, cologne, cigarettes, and that heady wood smoke from the bonfire they'd had on the beach two nights ago. They'd sat there, all of them, (except Zex, who'd had the utter audacity to leave them for the entire summer, and Roxas was going to kick his ass for that), until the blazing sunset was dimmer than the glowing embers dotting the edge of the massive bonfire, and then straight through until the sunrise arrived to rival the dying remains of the flames.

It had been perfect, every last fucking second of it. And he was leaving it.

Roxas was not going to cry.

The last song on his playlist, the one he'd made that was decidedly upbeat and positive and had absolutely nothing to do with friends, family, school, love, travel, leaving, missing, wanting, or dying (and therefore consisted mostly of the instrumental Tron soundtrack), left silence ringing in his ears. It wasn't silence, really; couldn't be silence, really, on a plane full of the stereotypical snoring fat guy, at least two crying babies, hyperactive brats who were entirely too young to be contained, and disturbingly cheerful stewardesses who seemed convinced Roxas was no older than fourteen. It wasn't, though, the sound of skateboard wheels on cobblestone, of Axel and Riku arguing over whose turn it was to fund their daily Cure fix, of an acoustic guitar on the beach.

It wasn't Axel's voice, laughing in the seat next to him, leaning over to blow quiet words into the blond's ear, tugging out an earbud and replacing the singer's sound with his own.

Roxas wasn't going to cry.

Instead he fumbled through his pockets for his iPod, scrambling through the password and the menu button until he was looking at a depressingly long list of playlists, not a single one of which looked remotely appealing.

Except the new one. There was a new one, nestled between Songs About Midnight Trains to Anywhere and Songs of Dissension, that he was absolutely certain he never made. Absolutely certain, in fact, that Axel had spent several hours on his computer last night while Roxas was too frantic to pack alone. Curiosity establishing dominance over misery, the blond thumbed through the playlist, sliding his finger slowly down the screen as he read the song titles; Somewhere Only We Know, Teleport A & B, Set the Fire to the Third Bar.

It was only on the last one that Roxas stopped, decisively hitting play. Of course he owned "I Want to Know Your Plans," of course he owned (hard copies of) all the Say Anything albums, so why didn't this song have any album art?

"Hey Rox."

Axel's voice was so direct, murmured into his ear like that, that Roxas was almost convinced his boyfriend had magically appeared in the seat next to him. He was coming from the headphones, though, Roxas knew that (knew it for sure after he'd checked up on the middle-aged businesswoman still sitting in the seat on his right, just in case).

"Who knows if and when you'll find this playlist, but just in case you're looking for something a little…well, you know. In case we haven't angsted the fuck out of this situation yet."

Roxas muffled a snort into the black cotton of his sweatshirt sleeve. It was, choked and desperate, the single most pathetic sound he'd ever heard himself utter.

"Anyway, babe, I don't care if you're just getting on the plane or if you've been at school six months already…I miss the ever-loving shit out of you. I already do, and you haven't even left yet. I'm leaving as soon as this is done to head over to your house, and you're leaving in the morning. Maybe the you that's listening to this right now is leaving in the morning, too, getting on a plane back here for fall break. Maybe we haven't even had time to miss each other properly, our missings crossing signals in the airwaves."

Roxas. Wasn't. Going. To. Cry.

"So, I borrowed this song, obviously, but somehow I don't think Max'll mind, seeing as he practically wrote it for us, for right here and right now. I just…I know we say we're going to make this work, and I know we think we can do this, but who knows what the universe has planned for us. Just…no matter what, Rox, I want to know you in whatever capacity you and the universe will let me. I love you. See you soon."

Hidden under the safety of his oversized black hood and behind the fraying cuff, forehead heavy against his knees, Roxas cried.


	26. I'm the Only One

GUYS I AM GOING TO DO SOMETHING BRAND NEW AND COMPLETELY ORIGINAL AND WRITE A STORY IN WHICH AXEL/ROXAS GETS UP ON STAGE AND SINGS A SONG TO ROXAS/AXEL.

* * *

**Title**: I'm The Only One

**Character**: Axel, Roxas, Naminé, Sora, Riku, Kairi  
**Song**: "I'm the Only One" by Melissa Etheridge/Mark Salling

* * *

I have grown up listening to every Melissa Etheridge song known to (wo)man, she was my Mom's favorite for a really long time. However, for the sake of this story, and the sake of getting as close as possible to actually hearing _Axel _sing it, I would recommend the Glee/Mark Salling cover.

* * *

Watching Axel take the stage was nothing new. He played open mic night at Nobody's Café on 104th every Wednesday night, 75% covers with an original song once a month, and Roxas Strife, dutiful best friend extraordinaire, never missed a show.

It was different tonight though, sitting here with Naminé. It wasn't a date, not yet; he'd made Sora come, and bring Kairi and Riku, so it wasn't a date. But it could have been. Could still be. Should be. Had the potential to be. And Jesus Christ, did that potential make him hyperaware of _everything_.

What if Naminé thought this was really boring? What if she thought it was really lame that they all squished into this stupid little booth every Wednesday and suffered through dozens of crappy singers just to hear one song by Axel? What if _Axel _was one of those dozens of crappy singers? Oh god, what if Axel sucked? Axel totally sucked, didn't he? Was today an original song day, or had that been last week? What did he sing last week? Did it suck? What if Naminé thought he sucked? Why was Naminé looking at him like that? Did she think he was crazy? Oh god, what was he thinking?

Roxas flashed Naminé an uneasy smile over the brim of his oversized coffee mug. She smiled back, nervous and sweet, before turning back to the conversation she was having with Kairi.

Okay, Rox, man the fuck up, don't screw this shit up. This was important. Naminé was a great girl, the perfect girl for Roxas, really. She was pretty and she was smart and everyone said they would be great together. Besides, she was also really nice – way too nice to think this was stupid or boring or that Axel sucked. And she and Axel were kind of friends, kind of.

Besides, Roxas reminded himself firmly, Axel didn't suck. Axel the-opposite-of-sucked, actually. Axel was one of the best damn singers Roxas had ever heard, with a voice like honey and scotch and soul, the kind of voice that Roxas didn't mind falling asleep to when his roommate got the urge to play guitar at 2:00 AM, and if Naminé didn't agree then he definitely was not interested in dating her.

Yeah.

Sora's cheering in his ear yanked Roxas headfirst out of the deep end he had been drowning in, dropping him heavily back down into his spot on the booth bench, squished between Sora on his right and Naminé on his left. Her elbows kept bumping into his every time she took a sip of her tea, creamy pale skin brushing against his long sleeve shirt, and he probably should have worn short sleeves so it was skin on skin, because that was probably quite nice, even if it was just her slightly-dry elbow against the golden blond hair on his forearms.

His stomach didn't feel right, though. He knew it was supposed to feel weird, fluttery and butterflies or whatever stupid analogies they used in his sister's silly little books, but he didn't think it was supposed to feel like he'd swallowed a lead weight that was settling just in the center of his gravity. That was what dread felt like, that anxious gnawing in the pit of his stomach, and he was not supposed to be dreading sitting next to Naminé.

Maybe it was the elbows. He should have worn short sleeves. Or maybe a heavy leather jacket. One or the other.

Axel was speaking now, saying something no doubt clever and charming in that front man of a one man show way he had, oozing charisma all over the audience. He was a favorite on open mic night, how could Roxas ever even for a second think the Naminé wouldn't like him? Everyone liked Axel. You couldn't help but like Axel, not when glanced up from under an arched red eyebrow and curled the corner of his lip into that secretive little smile-smirk, not when he pinned you down with those envy-green eyes.

Axel was still talking, and Naminé had settled her elbow against Roxas red t-shirt more permanently, and the light warmth against his arm wasn't supposed to make the weight in his stomach double, was it? Axel needed to stop talking and start singing so that Roxas could stop thinking and Sora could start cheering in his ear and Riku could stop looking at Roxas like he was a riddle Riku had just solved and Kairi could start subtly nudging Naminé in Roxas direction.

Of all of them, only Axel complied.

**Please baby can't you see my mind's a burning hell?  
****I got razors a-rippin' and tearin' and strippin' my heart apart as well.  
****Tonight you told me that you ache for something new,  
****And some other woman is looking like something that might be good for you.**

Original song night, then. Roxas recognized it. Axel'd started working on it a few weeks ago, he'd remembered it,

it was the same night he first told Axel he was thinking about asking Naminé out. Axel'd been wearing a mustard-colored shirt that should have looked hideous and instead made his green eyes look tinted gold, and Roxas had been so fascinated by the phenomenon that he'd forgotten to listen to Axel's advice on the matter (there may have also been a half a handle of vodka involved, but that hardly seemed relevant).

It was a good song, Roxas had told him as much a few days later, when he'd woken up at 3:45 in the morning to the barely audible sound of Axel picking quietly at his acoustic guitar. His roommate had apologized profusely for waking him, but Roxas didn't mind. It wasn't a bad way to wake up, really, and it was definitely not a bad way to be lulled back to sleep.

He'd dreamed of drowning in a sea of green flames and woke up missing the warmth of the fire on his skin.

**Go on and hold her til the screaming is gone.  
Go on, believe her, when she tells you nothing's wrong. **

Naminé leaned over to whisper that oh wow, Axel was _really_ good in his ear, and Roxas should have been pleased at the approval, should have been _thrilled _at the way her words tickled the hair just behind his ear. Frankly, he found himself annoyed by it. Didn't Naminé realize the utter travesty of speaking while Axel was singing?

He was really singing today too, hitting an edge Roxas rarely heard in Axel's honey-smooth tone, and despite his annoyance Roxas had no choice but to agree wholeheartedly with Naminé. His best friend was _killing it_, like that was any surprise. The kid was a god on stage, perched high on his barstool alter.

**But I'm the only one who'll walk across the fire for you.  
And I'm the only one who'll drown in my desire for you.  
It's only fear that makes you run,  
the demons that you're hiding from.  
When all your promises are gone:  
I'm the only one.**

And suddenly he wasn't; suddenly he was the beggar prostrating himself at unknown feet, pleading with a someone that Roxas was very quickly developing a burning hatred for. His best friend was a fucking prize to be won, _the_ prize to be won, and whatever bitch was throwing that away didn't deserve that kind of devotion from him.

Naminé shifted on the bench next to him, the movement bringing her close enough that they were pressed together from shoulder to elbow and hip to knee, but Roxas was entirely too preoccupied with running through the list of girls who had the potential to make Axel scream/sing/beg like that. Axel'd never liked Kairi, and it was a genuine dislike, not a cover for some deep longing. Xion was happily dating Riku's younger brother. Larx was on-again with Marluxia. Olette…no, Axel didn't actually know Olette, Roxas was just running out of girls he was friends with.

He would figure out who it was, though, that made Axel close his eyes and throw himself into every word like he meant them with everything he had. He would figure it out, and that girl would _pay._

**Please, baby, can't you see I'm trying to explain?  
I've been here before and I'm locking the door and I'm not going back again.  
Her eyes and arms and skin won't make it go away.  
You'll wake up tomorrow and wrestle the sorrow that holds you down today.**

Axel was looking at him. Axel was looking at him, and he realized that everyone that had ever described that moment when 'it's like they were the only two people in the room' had clearly never had _that_ moment. Far from being alone, far from being the only, Roxas was painfully aware of the people around him. _Painfully_ aware of the way Naminé's bony elbow pressed against his bone, of the way Riku was _still _looking at him like he was waiting for Roxas to catch on, of the dull buzz of murmured approval from the surrounding audience. They were distracting and they were impossible to ignore and every move every twitch every breath and sigh and mumbled sound because fuck it all.

Axel was looking at him in that way that always made Roxas wish he spoke two languages; English and Axel, one to hear what Axel was saying and one to understand what Axel was _really _saying. Axel was looking at him and Axel was staring and Axel was singing and it wasn't really singing it was _pleading_, but Roxas didn't understand it and the goddamn elbow on his arm and the knee bumping against his and why did he ever think bringing Naminé was a good idea? Axel was trying to tell him something and Roxas was supposed to be a dutiful best friend and going on a date with a girl was supposed to make things better, not worse.

**Go on and hold her til the screaming is gone.  
Go on, believe her, when she tells you nothing's wrong.  
But I'm the only one who'll walk across the fire for you.  
And I'm the only one who'll drown in my desire for you.  
It's only fear that makes you run,  
the demons that you're hiding from.  
When all your promises are gone:  
I'm the only one.**

Better, because Naminé was sweet and shy but also clever and funny, but mostly better because Naminé was a _girl_ and Naminé wasn't his best friend and if by some miracle he managed to develop a heart-stopping, breath-catching, soul-aching infatuation with _Naminé _and people found out, the world would not come crumbling down in itty bitty pieces. And it didn't matter if his stomach felt all wrong, didn't feel a damn thing like the way it did when Axel sat too close to him or when Axel leaned over to whisper in his ear. Naminé was supposed to make things better.

But how could anything be _better _when Axel was looking at him like that, those goddamn eyes and that goddamn smirk even though there was nothing remotely funny about the way Axel still sounded like he was begging Roxas to understand him. And he wanted to, oh god did he want to, but he didn't know what there was to understand, didn't know how to help his best friend. He could only listen, just sit there and listen and hope the sound of his best friend's guitar could drown out the thousands of distractions grasping greedily for his attention.

**Go on and hold her til the screaming is gone.  
Go on, believe her, when she tells you nothing's wrong.  
But I'm the only one who'll walk across the fire for you.  
And I'm the only one who'll drown in my desire for you.  
It's only fear that makes you run,  
the demons that you're hiding from.  
When all your promises are gone:**

He could only sit and listen as Axel leaned into his guitar, closed his eyes for one long breath, and hurled the words hard enough through the nagging interference that they couldn't help but his Roxas square in the chest, rocking him back in the booth. Only sit and stare as Axel punctuated each line with a desperate snarl, an emphatic jerk of his guitar, an anguished stare.

Only sit and listen, and actually _listen_, as Axel glanced down and whispered the last line, and maybe there was something to the only-people-in-the-room phenomenon, because there was no denying that Axel was looking at him like no one else meant a damn unless Roxas heard him.

**I'm the only one**.

Oh.


	27. Our Song

**Title**: Our Song  
**Characters**: Axel and Roxas  
**Song**: "Our Song" by The Spill Canvas

* * *

I have wanted to write a story inspired by this picture by **Nijunni **since I first saw it, but I was waiting for the right song.

http:/ nijuuni . deviantart . com / gallery / 340546 ? offset = 24#/ d1e8ffu

Cue The Spill Canvas.

* * *

Axel walks in to find Roxas giving his computer the special kind of murderous glare he usually reserves for traffic jams and long lines, or when Axel does something exceptionally stupid. The redhead can't think of a damn thing he's done this time, but he edges quietly into the room on tenterhooks anyway, just in case.

The picture only grows slightly clearer as he drew closer; Roxas surrounded by all his toys, top-quality Skullcandy headphones hanging around his neck, iPod in his left hand, right hand clicking murderously through his iTunes library of 6,000+ songs, barely letting a song hit the three-second mark before hitting next. His iPad stands propped against the apparently mutinous MacBook, Safari open to .

"Rox?" Axel tests the waters carefully, sliding into Roxas' line of sight as he clears his throat and speaks the smaller man's name out loud.

The blond barely looks up, slamming down on the mouse pad with a particularly harsh click by way of greeting.

Axel raises an eyebrow. Roxas _loves _his toys and is rarely ever abusive when it comes to his Apple products.

"Everything okay?"

"No," Roxas grumbles shortly, cutting off "Another Word for Desperate" by Straylight Run before the first line had even finished.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." Bam, "I Kissed a Girl" doesn't even play. "Time Turned Fragile" only long enough for Axel to recognize it. "All the Stars in Texas," lasts a full ten seconds before being viciously cut off.

"Are you…uh, I mean…did I…?"

Band of Horses' "Is There a Ghost?" plays for almost a full minute as Roxas finally glances up at him, looking faintly ashamed at the sight of the redhead hovering nervously several feet away. "No," he sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm just frustrated."

"It's okay," Axel shrugs. "Can I help?" He crosses the safety space he'd left between them and reaches out one hand to ruffle the blond hair not obscured by the headphones.

Roxas closes his eyes, allowing the affectionate tousle of fingers through his locks. "No," he sighs, "but thanks."

Axel nods, bending at the waist to drop a kiss on the younger man's cheek. He backs up towards the door again, knowing better than to interrupt Roxas when it's so obvious his boyfriend wants to be left alone. "Just let me know, yeah?"

Roxas, back on board whatever lost train of thought he'd been riding, barely acknowledges the redhead's departure from the room. 

* * *

The third day in a row that Axel comes back from class to find Roxas surrounded by gadgets and stabbing at buttons, though, he feels he can't contain himself anymore. In a move that some would call 'boldly taking life by the hand' and others would call 'taking his own life in his hands,' Axel slides smoothly into the seat across from Roxas' while simultaneously slamming the laptop closed and flattening out the iPad.

Roxas redirects the force of his ferocious stare at his boyfriend, who responds with his best attempt at appearing unaffected by such misdirected vitriol.

"Roxas," he says soothingly, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing," the blond insists sulkily, reaching itchy fingers towards the MacBook Axel's still holding shut. The older man flattens his hand more firmly against the smooth surface, leveling Roxas with a pointed look.

"Rox," he warns, raising an eyebrow. "You've been storming away at your poor technology for three days straight. What's wrong?"

"I just…I need to find the perfect song," Roxas admits grudgingly. He sweeps one hand back through his blond spikes, pushing his headphones down to hang around his neck.

And really, Axel should have guessed. Roxas is borderline obsessive when it comes to his music, and that absolutely did not exclude his neuroses about finding the perfect song for any given need. It was, in fact, what drove the younger blond into eventually, in a fit of disgust at being unable to find a song that properly expressed the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop, writing his own music. Axel's known his boyfriend to spend weeks at a time on a single playlist – but admittedly, he's never quite gotten this violent about it.

"You should have said so," he laughs, lifting his fingers off the precious MacBook. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," Roxas admits sullenly, pulling his computer towards him again but not yet resuming his search. "I have to do it."

"Okay," Axel shrugs. "How many songs do you have left in your library?"

"A little under a thousand," the desperation in Roxas' voice is beginning to edge out the frustration with each admission. A thousand songs, in the world of Roxas, is tantamount to realizing you have four days of vacation left and only one clean pair of socks. "I'm running out of options."

"So?" the redhead pushes himself upright, confiscating his boyfriend's iPad off the kitchen table and tucking it under his wrist. "Write something new. Guarantee it'll be better than whatever you're scrolling through now." 

* * *

Axel begins wearing headphones around the apartment more or less 24/7. He doesn't mind; Roxas isn't the only one with a deep-seated obsession with music, but in this case it's much more a means of self-preservation than it is an appreciation of the new Say Anything album. Roxas has relocated from iProducts at the kitchen table to his favorite Casio keyboard on the living room floor, painting himself into the corner with a veritable mountain of crumbled up paper and empty cans of Cure, and when Roxas is working, he doesn't like anyone listening. After a full day of tentative piano playing cutting off violently every time Axel walks into the living room the redhead takes out his headphones and makes a great show of being pointedly unable to hear Roxas.

The blond is not amused.

He stops scowling at Axel though, so Axel suffers the ball and chain of an iPod and headphones in relative silence (only occasionally mumbling along with a song or breaking into violent air guitar), and by the fourth day of piano-playing/key-slamming is almost used to life on mute. At 1:00 AM he bends down over his boyfriend for a perfunctory goodnight without even turning the music off, The Crystal Method's "Falling Hard," still pulsing through his Beats, and is almost literally thrown off balance by the way Roxas snakes out a hand and hits the pause button on the mp3 player.

Axel lowers himself gently to the floor, crouching next to the younger man looking at him with a slightly manic stare, and reaches up one hand to card through unkempt blond spikes. The way Roxas closes his blue eyes and sighs with his entire body is both endearing and heartbreaking.

"I'm messing up the lines," Roxas whimpers. "I can feel it, it's all wrong."

"You're not auditioning for a part in High School Musical," Axel teases him lightly, scratching the blunt edge of his nails through the hair at the base of Roxas' skull. "You're writing a song."

"But it needs to be right," the blond insists, blowing a frustrated huff of air through his teeth. "It needs to be perfect."

"You'll get it."

He slides his hand through Roxas' hair one last time, brushing the spikes back off the blond's forehead and leaning in to press a kiss to the newly exposed skin. Roxas exhaled lightly, the puff of breath warm against Axel's neck, and the redhead smiles against his boyfriend's furrowed brow before pushing himself wordlessly to his feet and ambling off towards their bedroom.

He doesn't press play again, and the tentative sounds of the piano drift down the hall after him. 

* * *

At 3:15 AM Axel's woken up by a sound that suspiciously resembles Roxas slamming down on two handfuls, or maybe a face-full, of piano keys at once. He drags one tattooed wrist over his eyes as he draws up out from between the charcoal sheets, shuffling soundlessly down the hallway towards his undoubtedly fuming boyfriend.

Roxas is still in that same corner, hood up over his blond hair, knees pulled into his chest, snarling wordlessly at the keyboard as though it has personally offended him. Axel shuffles aside torn and crumpled scraps of sheet music and two broken pencils, sliding his back down the wall to land next to his boyfriend on the floor.

Roxas is frustrated to near tears. Axel hasn't noticed until now, when Roxas all but climbs into the redhead's lap and curls up against his bare chest, hooded head tucked under the older man's chin. Axel wraps both arms around Roxas' waist and waits for him to speak.

"Everyone writes these epic love songs," he says finally, after sitting in silence long enough that Axel has started drifting back to sleep.

The redhead lifts his head from where it has been drooping back against the wall, giving Roxas as much of his attention as possible given their current positions.

"All these stories about kissing in the pouring rain and taking midnight trains to anywhere and surviving the Holocaust for love. That's what people write love songs about. These cinematic stories of great romances of the twentieth century."

"You need to listen to less Taylor Swift," Axel scolds, rolling his eyes.

Roxas elbows him lightly in the ribs in response, but the redhead swears he hears a snort of laughter coming from under that hood.

"So you're looking for a love song?" he tries again, attempting at a comeback from the dig in his ribs.

Roxas can't decide between nodding and shaking his head. He does both in quick succession, careful not to hit Axel's jaw with his skull, before shrugging his free shoulder in confused surrender.

"I'm looking for our love song," the blond admits quietly.

Axel doesn't say anything for a long minute, letting it soak in. While he's never, not for a second, questioned Roxas' feelings for him, it's rare for his boyfriend to do something so outwardly romantic. The knowledge that Roxas has spent the last week agonizing over the perfect love song to dedicate to them is alarmingly precious, and the redhead can't help but tighten his hold just a bit.

There was only one flaw in Roxas' plan.

"But Rox," he protests, and something in his voice makes Roxas sit upright, turning to the side to meet Axel's level green stare. "You're trying to find, or trying to write, the next anthem to epic professions of love, but they're not always like that. It's not always about chasing after your leaving train in a desperate attempt to get you back and confess my undying love for you. I mean, that's not how our song goes."

It goes like this:

High school senior Roxas Strife takes Intro to Music Theory with Prof. Sebastian every Tuesday and Thursday morning at Hollow Bastion University and sits next to college freshman Axel Flynn. By the end of class they're exchanging glances, by the end of the week they're exchanging numbers.

Axel's friends call him a cradle robber and a fool. Roxas' mother is convinced Axel has only the most nefarious of intentions. Axel sends her flowers, Roxas writes the band a song that moves Xigbar to tears.

By the time Roxas graduates they're searching for apartments, by the Roxas starts classes with them in the fall they've moved in together. Roxas writes music that bumps the band from campus coffee houses to a regular Friday night gig at Organization, Axel supplies his (sometimes separate, sometimes combined) addiction to beer, sushi, and sex. It's simple, it's uncomplicated, it's downright effortless. They're not perfect, but they're pretty damn close.

Roxas has that faraway look in his eyes, that thoughtful shine of words weaving together in time with Axel's heartbeat. He slips slowly from his perch on his boyfriend's thighs, settling himself back in front of the Casio and rummaging through his piles for a relatively blank piece of staffed paper. Axel wordlessly frees the pencil from behind Roxas' ear and holds it to the blond's waiting hand, watching with a fond smile as Roxas sinks slowly into his mental conservatory.

Axel leaves him with a sloppy kiss to the temple and a ruffle of blond spikes, and the piano piece that follows him already starts to sound like home. 

* * *

Axel next wakes up to the murmuring rustle of blankets, the slow dip of the mattress as Roxas slips carefully under the comforter. Axel greets him with a sleepy hum of approval as his boyfriends wraps two sweatshirt-soft arms around his waist, pressing himself against the smooth planes of Axel's back from forehead to feet.

"How'd it go?" Axel mumbled into his pillow, reaching down to tangle his fingers with those laced across his stomach. One of Roxas' hands holds a crumpled sheaf of papers, the unspoken answer to the redhead's question. He can feel Roxas molded against him, one leg sliding between his own, hips melting together, connecting the dots between them one by one until they were boiled down to one massive point in the early light of dawn.

Roxas presses his nose into his boyfriend's spine as Axel tugs the sheet music from the blond's grip. It is just barely light enough outside that he can make out the frantic scribbles scratched across the page.

"I have to rewrite the melody for guitar," Roxas mumbles. Axel feels the way Roxas' mouth forms each syllable against the skin of his back, the way Roxas' free hand is gently brushing the melody against his abdomen. "And I wrote it from your point of view, since you're the one singing it."

"Later," Axel whispers back. He can feel his eyelids drooping even as he tries desperately to focus them on the page. "I'll sing it later. I want you to sing it now."

And even though he's falling asleep, and even though Roxas knows just as well as Axel that the redhead won't remember the beginning by the time the blond has reached the end, Roxas still shifts himself up until he can press his lips against the soft skin behind Axel's ear.

_We never were  
__We'll never be_

_Strangers kissing in the pouring rain  
Chasing after your leaving train  
__But we know  
__That's not how our song goes._

_It goes like this._

* * *

can you tell I'm procrastinating?


	28. But It's Better If You Do

**I REALLY wanted to write a scene with Riku doing karaoke to Lying is the Most Fun...for Living Proof, but it just doesn't fit in anywhere. Solution? This is a canonical, Living Proof Universe story, that takes place before Roxas' starts telling it. Specifically about a month before the story proper starts. But, of course, you don't need to be reading LP to read this.  
**

* * *

**Title: **But It's Better if You Do  
**Characters**: Sora, Kairi, Riku, Axel  
**Song**: "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" by Panic! At the Disco

also, the song Axel sings is by Blink-182, and if you tell me it's not a real song I will happily send you the audio file.

* * *

Sora was in that delicious phase of being not quite yet drunk, but pleasantly buzzed off a few beers and _intoxicated _by the sizzle in the air. He loved this vibe, loved the way the atmosphere burned with chaos and noise, the party pushing past the point of caring. People were tacky with sweat, sticky from spilled punch, shamelessly shoving aside things social niceties like personal space and reservation. Sometimes he stayed on this line of sober, on nights like this, just to be able to sit back and watch, soak it all in and still remember it in the morning.

He wasn't meant to be here, not even a little bit; maybe Roxas thought he ran the world, but Sora wasn't _really _popular enough to get invited to college parties while he was still in high school. Kairi wasn't either, but being best friends with a freshman at Twilight Tech had its perks, and invitations to parties was one of them. Especially parties like this one, a birthday party on the beach for Riku's roommate, Axel. Riku had rounded up a bunch of the students who had stayed for the summer term and hauled them out to Axel's mansion out at Twilit Point, and somehow Sora and Kairi had found themselves on the inside of that lasso.

"Sora!" Kairi stumbled towards him, two parts alcohol one part trying to walk on soft sand. He glanced up just in time to catch her tossing back the last of her drink, empty solo cup hanging limp from her fingers.

There was something about this side of Kairi that Sora could never quite get enough of. Kairi during the day was perfect and poised, smart and sweet, and always put together. Kairi by night, on the other hand, had black eyeliner smeared across her temple and a glassy look in her wide blue eyes, and didn't give a damn about the way the humidity had left her hair stringy and her tank top damp. She was a whole different creature, here and now, and Sora took a long moment to just sit there and admire it.

"Sora," she huffed, reaching down to grab his arm. She overbalanced slightly, bracing her empty-cup-hand against the sand. "So, you gotta come see this."

"See what?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow. The party was crawling with people at varying levels of fucked up; Kairi's excitement could stem from anything from an impressively long wizard's staff to a puddle of beer in the shape of a heart.

"They found Axel's old karaoke machine and dragged it out onto the deck," she giggled, pushing with her now sandy hand until she was mostly upright. The redhead still had a surprisingly solid grip on Sora's arm, tugging it lightly as she straightened herself up.

"And?" Sora was already gathering his legs underneath him, allowing Kairi the delusion that she was pulling him to his feet, but he couldn't help the way the exasperation on the drunk girl's face made him laugh.

"And Riku's singing and it's going to be hysterical and a once in a lifetime opportunity because Sora Riku _never _and I mean _never_ sings in public because he thinks he's awful at it but he's actually pretty good but the _point_ Sora is that _we need to go watch Riku sing so we can make fun of him for the rest of ever._"

"Alright, alright," he laughed, letting her drag him along like the puppy on a leash they both knew he secretly was. "Lets go make sure Riku never lives it down."

"Goody." Kairi dropped her Solo cup, patting her back pockets with her newly free hand. "I even have my camera," she announced triumphantly, pulling out the sleek pink device.

"He's going to be thrilled," the brunet said dryly, picking his way through groups of people sitting on the beach.

"Probably not," Kairi agreed, "but I will be. You have no _idea_, So, how drunk he must be to be willing to sing."

They traipsed up the wide, sweeping stone staircase separating Axel's backyard from the beach proper just in time to catch the tail end of a truly, truly awful rendition of "Teenage Dream." Sora very, very pointedly didn't look at the makeshift stage that had appeared on the deck, hoping to god he wouldn't see Riku croaking into the mic like that. He chose instead to swing by one of the strategically planted coolers of beer, fishing out two new Natty Lights for the pair of them.

"Yayyy we didn't miss him," Kairi cheered. "He's on next of next, I think."

She was right. The birthday boy himself was all but shoving some blonde chick away from the karaoke machine, laughing as he pulled the microphone away from her.

"I bet I can sing better than Larx," Axel taunted, holding the microphone to his lips and dancing backwards away from the scowling blonde.

"I bet Xiggy could sing better than Larx," someone called back, "and he's passed out in the upstairs bathtub."

"Cheers," Axel laughed, toasting his beer towards the dark haired kid perched on the deck railing. Sora and Kairi settled in among the half-assed crowd, dropping down into an empty Adirondack chair, Kairi perched on Sora's lap. "So where's my Riku?"

"Hiding!" Scattered laughter followed the (admittedly probably accurate) guess and earned a leering grin from Axel.

"Hear that, Reeks, Demyx is impugning your manhood," he challenged. "Come on now, you promised me that you'd sing something sexy for my birthday, bitch."

The makeshift audience laughed, looking around for the telltale silver hair. Sora was surprised by the stage presence Axel managed to have, holding court at a rager while almost too drunk to function himself.

"He's in a band, remember?" Kairi whispered, leaning in close enough to rest her head against Sora's. "With Riku and Demyx and that hot british guy, what's his face."

"Lead singer?" Sora mumbled back. He was distracted by the news that _Riku _was in a band. He wondered if Roxas listened to them…

"You can tell," Kairi nodded. She leaned back further, curling into Sora's chest. "He's hot, but he doesn't like me very much."

"No?" the brunet laughed. "Why not?"

"Fine, Reeks, you won't come out here, I'll just have to sing your favorite song until you do."

Kairi, distracted by the sound of Axel clearing his throat loudly into the microphone, turned her attention back towards the karaoke machine. Axel was fiddling with a few buttons on the screen, and Sora could see his wicked smirk from here. The redhead straightened up just as the guitar started picking up, tossing a wink in Demyx' direction as the blond suddenly started cackling.

"_It'd be nice to have a blow job.  
It would be nice to have a blow job.  
It would be nice to have a blow job.  
It would be nice to have a blow job._

I_t'd be nice to have a blow job._  
_It would be nice to have a blow job._  
_It would be nice to have a blow job._  
_It would be nice to have a blow job from your mom_."

The whole audience was laughing by the time Axel took a deep breath, cocksure grin on his face as he ate up their amusement. He seemed dead serious about his threat, too; the song was already cueing up to start again.

"Oh god oh god okay I'm here just stop."

Axel let out a loud whoop, throwing an arm around Riku's shoulder as the silver haired teen came all but running towards the makeshift stage. He tugged the mic away from the redhead, hip-checking his best friend away from the karaoke machine.

"You're the worst," Riku grumbled.

Sora shifted his weight on the chair, settling back against the smooth wood at a better angle to study the older teen head on. He looked distinctly uncomfortable under his alcohol façade, none of the stage presence Axel had had.

"Yeah well you better make it good, Princess, or you'll have to do another one."

Riku let out such a long-suffering sigh that Sora couldn't help but laugh, jostling Kairi slightly on his lap. Aquamarine eyes narrowed as Riku turned his stare on Sora, raising an eyebrow at the blatant amusement on the younger boy's face.

Axel pressed a button on the karaoke machine and sat back with a grin as Riku grudgingly raised the mic to his lips.

"_Is it still me that makes you sweat?  
Am I who you think about in bed?  
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking  
as you're sliding off your dress?_"

Sora held very still. Riku was still staring right at him, unblinkingly, glassy eyes narrowed under his silver bangs, and the brunet couldn't quite tear himself away.

"Ooo," Kairi cooed under her breath. "Look at him, that little liar, I knew he was good."

"Yeah," Sora muttered. "He is."

Everyone else seemed to think so, too. Axel's friends were cheering loudly by the time that Riku reached the first chorus, egging the singer on until he had no choice but to commit to it.

"_I've got more wit, a better kiss,  
hotter touch, a better fuck,  
than any boy you'll ever meet,  
__Sweetie you had me_."

He stalked forward, winding through the gathering crowd (_Riku_ was _singing_. Apparently this was a Big Deal) with his wireless mic. Axel was the first to elbow in, flinging an arm over his best friend's shoulder just in time to share the mic.

"_No no no, you know it will always just be me._  
_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster, _faster_.  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,  
will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close?"_

Kairi laughed at the way Axel dropped his arm from Riku's shoulders down to his hips, pulling his roommate flush up against him as they danced for barely a flash before Riku twisted away, trailing across the deck to wedge himself in between Demyx and a kid with charcoal hair.

"_Oh now I do recall  
we were just getting to the part,  
where the shock sets in and the stomach acid  
finds a new way to make you feel sick_."

Demyx grabbed the mic from Riku's grip, turning away from the silver haired teen to steal the chorus.

"_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster, faster.  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,  
will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close?_"

Riku lunged forward and yanked back the microphone, smacking a loud, wet sounding kiss on Demyx' cheek before dodging away with his prize. Sora stared, frowning at the blond as he gasped melodramatically and touched his cheek, even as everyone else laughed.

"Mmm I have the two best best friends ever," Kairi sighed, taking a swig of her beer and reclining back against the arm rest, blue eyes following Riku across the wooden deck. "You two should be better friends."

"I'll work on it," Sora promised. Yeah. He'd do that. Just for Kairi.

In the moment he'd looked away he lost track of Riku, twisting his head side to side in search of silver hair. He could still hear him, Riku was still singing, but Sora couldn't find him.

And then there was a weight on his shoulder, heavy and warm and just a little sweaty, and hair brushing against his arm, and Kairi was shaking with giggles as Riku leaned his head against hers. They tossed the line back and forth like they planned it, Riku then Kairi then both together.

"_Dance to this beat,  
Dance to this beat,  
Dance to this beat…"_

And then there was the wire mesh of a microphone against the side of his jaw, fingers tangled in his hair, mouth so close to his ear that he could hear each little huff of exhaled breath.

"_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster, faster.  
Let's get these teen hearts beating faster_."_  
_  
He was gone as quickly as he came, but Sora could have sworn that, just for a second, Riku had pressed in close enough that his lips brushed his neck.

The general applause and guffaws lasted until Riku and Axel strutted back up to the stage, the redhead taking the mic back before passing it off to some sloppy-looking brunette girl. Sora didn't know her, but Kairi apparently did, as she jumped up and ran towards the karaoke machine when the girl asked for help.

Sora shifted around in his newly free chair, twisting the beer between his fingers as he glanced half-heartedly around the groups of people on the deck. The birthday boy was still around, back with Demyx and the kid whose name Sora didn't know, but Riku was –

Sneaking around the side of the house. Sora saw the flash of silver under the patio flood lights just as he rounded the corner into the dark.

Sora got up slowly, planting his feet carefully on the ground and making a great show of stretching lazily, cautious of his beer as he raised his arms up over his head. He was going to the bathroom, if anyone asked, but no one did. He didn't expect them to, really, not with Kairi and the brunette girl picking up a rousing rendition of "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Still, he ambled off slowly, without any apparent direction in mind, casually sliding into the shadows on the far side of the house.

WHAM.

Sora's back hit the vinyl siding with a thud, two hands fisted in the front of his t-shirt. He tossed his drink aside without a second thought, spilled beer soaking the ground under their bare feet as he fumbled to thread his fingers through empty belt loops.

"Well?"

Riku's breath was hot against his skin, ticking the brown hair curling down around Sora's ear, but it still made Sora shiver as a chill danced down his spine.

"Is it still me that makes you sweat?"

The brunet muffled a groan against Riku's bare shoulder as the older teen licked a slow path up the side of Sora's neck. It was a typically hot, humid August night, but damned if Riku wasn't making him hot in an entirely different way.

"Dunno," Sora mumbled back, lifting his head to look up into dark cerulean eyes. "Am I who you think about in bed?"

"Damn right," Riku growled. He barely got it out in time; Sora tightened his grip on Riku's shorts and Riku moved his hand to the back of Sora's neck, and neither of them had the patience to wait for things like _talking_as Sora yanked Riku forward and Riku sealed their lips together.

"So what about tonight, then," Sora teased, twisting his mouth away from Riku's. The college student went for his jaw instead, nipping lightly at the curve of his bone. "Gonna think about me tonight?"

"Why," Riku murmured back, moving down to the fleshy hollow under Sora's jaw, pressing the words into his skin. "Why bother _thinking_ about you when I could _have _you?"

They were seamless, had so much practice it was easy, the way Sora moved his hips in anticipation of Riku's response, punctuating the implication with an equally implying action. Riku lifted his head again and Sora ducked in before he was ready for it, sucking Riku's lower lip between his own teeth.

"Hmm, so that's a yes?"

"YO REEKS, WE'RE UP ON THE TABLE."

Sora's head fell back against the house will a thump, Riku drooping forward to drop his forehead against Sora's shoulder. They stood there, pressed together in the important places, the pulse points and the heart lines, catching their respective breath as they waited for Axel to get impatient.

"DUDE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

"I should go," Riku whispered.

Sora nodded, head moving against the cool vinyl siding.

"You did say we were invited to spend the night, if we didn't want to make the trek back to town, yeah?"

Riku turned his face into the side of Sora's neck, pressing his grin into the tan skin.

"I'll give you twenty minutes to find Kairi someone else to snuggle with?"

"RIKU"

"COMING" Riku shouted back, lifting his head and glaring in the general direction of Axel's backyard.

"Not yet you're not," Sora muttered. He reluctantly released his grip on Riku's belt loops, letting the taller boy step back slightly.

"Tease," Riku smirked. He darted forward again just long enough to press another searing kiss to Sora's lips, dancing back out of reach again before the brunet could even react. "Later, brat."

Sora let him go, listening from the shadows as Riku reappeared in the midst of the party, yelling at Axel something about how the redhead better not hold them back this time. He would wait a few minutes, just in case anyone was watching. It gave him a second, too, to press himself back in the quiet darkness, closing his eyes and willing his breathing to slow, his heart to stop racing. _Later_.

_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster, faster.  
Let's get these teen hearts beating faster. _

* * *

Between this week's Glee, Dalton, Go Your Own Way, and Firecrotch updates, I'm literally an emotional trainwreck right now. Enjoy some fluff, happy Friday.


	29. Asleep

**Title**: Asleep  
**Characters**: Riku, Sora  
**Song**: "Asleep" by Emily Browning (cover from the _SuckerPunch _soundtrack)

* * *

More than anything, more than his desperate homesickness (who'd have ever thought he'd be homesick for _Destiny Islands_), more than his fear of the darkness still lurking in the edges of his vision, Riku wished he could touch Sora. Not being able to hear Sora's laugh, or his voice, or even his defensive comebacks, would be just that much more bearable if he were able to touch Sora.

He had never realized how tactile Sora was; never realized just how often Sora _touched_ people, until he wasn't around anymore. It wasn't something he'd ever have noticed if they hadn't disappeared; the teasing scrape of nails ruffling his hair, the curl of fingers wrapping around his wrist, the flat warmth of a palm slapping him on the back. Everything about Sora was that stupid sunlight and warmth that he just _radiated, _and living in the darkness for so long had only made Riku more desperate for what he was missing.

He'd never realized how often he returned the touches until he was unable fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and comb through Sora's wild chocolate spikes, with the childish compulsion to flick Sora's freckled nose. His arms ached with the need to slide around the younger boy's body, one around his shoulders, one under his knees, bridal style, and carry him out of this coldly sterile lab and as far away from here as possible. His lips...well, that was a new one for him. Riku wasn't quite sure what, exactly, he wanted to do with them, just that the combined thought of lips and hands and Sora often made him bite back a groan.

Today, though, today Riku wanted something even more than he wanted to be able to touch Sora. Today he fought Roxas. Fought Roxas and _lost_, and that couldn't happen because Riku had to beat him, had to defeat him. He had to, because Sora wouldn't wake up until Roxas came back, and Riku couldn't live like this anymore, couldn't stand here day after day, hood up over his platinum hair, blindfold hanging limply around his neck, watching Sora sleep.

He knew what he had to do. Knew what needed to be done, if he was genuine in his need to protect Sora (and oh god, had he ever uttered a more genuine promise in his life?). He just…he wanted to look at Sora with his own two eyes. One last time.

_There is another world.  
There is a better world.  
Oh, there must be_. 

* * *

this is weird cause it's like, almost actually a drabble. what gives?


	30. Call Me Maybe

**Title: **Call Me Maybe**  
Characters: **Axel, Roxas, Riku, Demyx**  
Song: **"Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen 

* * *

****

sorry I'm not sorry about this (just wait until the next two, it gets so much worse). also sorry I'm not sorry that this song is the most addictive shit you've ever heard in your entire life. 

* * *

Axel was Playing It Cool.

He was being smooth and suave and slick and all those other kinds of s-words that meant "way too hip for you." He casually rearranged himself on the stool in a way that just so happened to best display his long legs, leaned into Riku's personal space in a way that implied a fascination (and therefore unavailability) with the riveting beauty that was his exotic-looking best friend. Laughing a little extra, putting on just a little glitter, a little extra shine, posing himself as the perfect kind of person you couldn't take your eyes off of.

Because there was a boy. Over on the other side of the pool. That Axel couldn't drag his eyes away from.

Petite and blond and unapologetically gorgeous, he was standing at the far end of the patio with the sunset in his hair and a perfectly fitted white button-down setting off golden summer skin. He was a pocket-size Adonis, Axel's own masterpiece, and he couldn't quite stop himself from sneaking stare after long, smoldering stare.

Except that he had now been caught. Twice. The first time by a delicately arched eyebrow, the second by a amused quirk of the boy's (luscious, lickable) lips. So he was _not _going to keep looking (like trying to glare down the sun, painfully beautiful framed in a halo of dying daylight), instead he was going to give the blond god something to look at. Just in case.

So he posed and he poised and he over-saturated his every gesture, hyperaware of each move his body made in relation to the figure across the patio, a lowly moon straining for the attention of a celestial sun. He laughed and he ran a hand through his mane of hair in a way he knew brought attention to both the lush auburn locks and the length of his pale neck.

His friends fed him opportunities, the dutiful best friend and the dutiful roommate, tossing him easy pitches for a witty one-liner, laughing eagerly at even his half-assed jokes. They noticed his glances, his pathetically failed attempts at casually surveying the surrounding poolside bar, his attention straying clear across the still water to a group standing under a strand of unlit fairy lights.

So Axel looked. He crashed and burned in his attempts at both subtlety and nonchalance, careening wildly out of orbit and just barely managing to stay in the same galaxy as grace (only just because he had hitherto managed to stay upright on his bar stool), and he didn't give a damn as long as he could check in on the sight of folded sunglasses weighing open a deeper V neck and artfully ripped jeans revealing snatches of tan skin.

The third time he was caught the boy held his captured gaze, blue eyes reflecting in the early light of the moon even from the distance. Axel stared, ensnared, transfixed by the slow curl of the other boy's lips, the melting ache of desire sliding through his veins. His ability to inhale abandoned him, breath stuck somewhere between alveoli and air, as the kid raised his glass in silent toast, throwing him a saucy wink that landed like a penny off the Empire State by the time it reached Axel.

Riku cleared his throat and Axel jumped, wrenching his eyes away from the blond still watching him, semi-curious tilt to his head as he studied the blushing redhead. Demyx laughed, and Riku teased him mercilessly, and Axel, properly chagrined to the point of Shameful Puppy, made a very fervent point of turning his back to the cluster of weekenders on the classy side of the pool.

He lasted twenty minutes, a whole eighteen and a half longer than Demyx had bet he would, subtly twisting around for a check up under the guise of keeping an eye out for Zexion's arrival.

He was gone.

Axel gave up the pretense of doing anything other than shamelessly staring, shoulders slumped in defeat at a contest he hadn't realized he'd been participating in. It was…he felt the loss, almost, like the now-lit strands of fairy lights were just a few shades duller from all that missed potential.

There was a hand on his neck. Riku, no doubt, two parts comforting one part teasing…except the touch was too light, the fingers too small to be Riku, and they were steering him around to the opposite side of the barstool from where his best friend had been standing.

Honey gold and electric blue, and that's all he got before he was all but yanked off the stool, pulled down to just the right height for someone petite and unapologetically gorgeous in a white oxford shirt. The lips pressed insistently against his were salty and slightly chapped, like he'd spent the day at the beach, and from this close Axel could see sun-kissed freckles and a hint of a burn dusted across high cheekbones.

It was short and sweet, just enough to leave him hanging precariously in both the literal and figurative sense, swaying in the moment and the warm summer breeze as he stared slightly slack-jawed at the smirking blond in front of him. A second kiss, shorter, sweeter, just a simple catch of lip between lips, and the press of fabric against his palm, and Axel was left breathless and speechless as the boy laughed and ran off to catch his friends without so much as a word.

Riku and Demyx looked as shocked as he felt when he turned back around to face them, thunderstruck expressions replacing their teasing smiles. Riku was the first to notice the scrap Axel hadn't realized he'd still been clutching in his fist, raising an eyebrow as the redhead caught on and loosened his grip on the cocktail napkin.

"_Hey – I just met you, and this is crazy…but here's my number…so call me, maybe? – Roxas_" 

* * *

BEFORE YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE I MISSED YOU SO BAD  
I MISSED YOU SO BAD  
I MISSED YOU SO SO BAD


	31. What Makes You Beautiful

**Title:** What Makes You Beautiful  
**Characters:** Sora, Riku  
**Song:**"What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction

* * *

1. I've always wanted to write a 4 times/1 time. Sue me.  
2. I have never hated myself more than right now. Except when I started writing the next story. It's a Kylie Minogue song.  
3. This is 1200% Aren's fault.  
4. Sorry I'm not sorry about it.  
5. There is no five, I'm just neurotic.

* * *

**What Makes You Beautiful**

* * *

1. _Baby you light up my world like nobody else  
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed_

* * *

This must be what torture feels like.

That's the only thing Sora can think of that could possibly rival the experience of watching Riku walking out of the surf like that: rivulets of water dripping down his well-defined chest, bleeding into the waistband of low-slung board shorts that clung like a second skin to muscular thighs. Hair that should have been slicked back along his scalp, darkened to charcoal and water-logged, shining silver in the sunlight, loose from the way he rakes his fingers through it. An easy smile, an actual smile, not a smirk or a tease but an actual smile, dancing easily across his lips.

Jesus fuck, Sora's brain is narrated by a trashy romance novel authoress. And his life is directed like a James Bond movie. And Jesus Christ on a cross, Sora, the way you're drooling at the vision crossing the sand towards you is downright pathetic, idiot.

Riku grins as he approaches Sora's towel, waiting until he was feet away from the brunet to shake his hair out like a soppy dog, showering Sora with little droplets of salt water as he flips his hair forward once before straightening back up again. Sora absolutely does not shriek like a shrimpy little school girl, no he does not, and he _certainly_does not stare shamelessly as the metallic silver strands land in such artful disarray that he's sure Riku planned it.

"Feel better?" he asks dryly, a poor attempt at saving face as his best friend flops forward onto his own towel and throws himself over onto his back.

A soulful, content sigh is his first answer. Sora rolls his head to the side, too lazy to move properly even if it means getting to stare at Riku more. He's squirming back and forth using his shoulders and his hips to shift the sand under his blanket, shimmying the sand into a more form-fitting mold, and if he doesn't stop writhing around like that Sora is going to have a Problem.

"Much."

It takes Sora a second to remember the question, distracted as he is by the way Riku arches himself up on his shoulder blades and shoves one hand under his back, adjusting a particularly stubborn lump of sand. It's surreal, the way he glistens like freshly mined diamonds, the little streams of salt water and sweat pooling in the crevices between his muscles and joints catching and refracting the mid-afternoon sunlight. Silver's always been a color he associated with moonlight, not daytime, but the way Riku wears it it's hard to imagine how any other color even exists in the light of the sun.

"Hey, look." Riku jerks his head slightly to the side, but it takes Sora a second to catch on, distracted as he is by the way the motion draws into sharp relief the smoothly cut lines of Riku's throat. He catches up in time to see Kairi and Selphie approaching, and a white hot spike of possessive jealousy drives through his stomach at the way Selphie's eyeing up Riku's bare torso. He's no stranger to the sight of friends and unknowns alike staring wide-eyed and Riku's flawlessly constructed frame and exotic silver hair, but that's never stopped him from wanting to follow Riku around with a sign declaring 'Property of Sora Strife, back the fuck off.'

"Selphie's totally checking you out."

Huh?

Sora props himself up on his elbows and turns to give Riku that kind of look usually reserved for the clinically insane. Selphie's practically foaming at the mouth in the face of Riku's model-esque physique, fingers twitching at her side in her efforts to stop from reaching out and testing the reality of those chiseled abs. What the fuck is Riku smoking, suggesting that she's looking at _Sora_?

"Moron," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "She's looking at _you_."

"Why would she be –"

"Hey Riku," Selphie purrs, swear to God, _purrs_at the silver-haired teen, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that looks more tacky than becoming.

Kairi rolls her eyes. Riku barely blinks. Sora clears his throat. Selphie spares him half a glance before returning to tracking the path of a bead of sweat down Riku's bicep. "Oh, hey Sora."

"Selphie," he nods, and he'd thought he'd done a reasonable job at keeping his voice neutral, but the scolding look Riku shoots him suggests otherwise. Kairi knows better, because Kairi's a _genius_and the best thing that has ever happened to him, and it's such, such a pity that he's so stupidly head over heels for Riku because in a different life Kairi could have made the angels sing and the sun shine. But anyway, Kairi knows better, and she knows well enough to hook her arm through Selphie's and lead her friend none-too-gently away to go find Tidus and Wakka like they were supposed to.

"See, what did I tell you," Riku nudges him, grinning. "She couldn't even look at you – bet she has a crush on you. Bet it's cause you're so damn cute. You probably coulda been nicer."

Sora blames his loud, audible groan on the force with which he smacks his head against the sand beneath him.

* * *

2. _But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell,  
You don't know – oh oh,  
You don't know you're beautiful_

* * *

And goddammit he's doing that thing again. That thing. With his face. Where he, like, has one. And what is air, really, because it's supposed to be something you can breathe but Sora's just _choking _on it because Riku's doing that stupid thing with his stupid face and everyone else should just go home and leave Sora here to bask in the glory of oh-god-he-was-going-to-die in peace.

He's not even doing anything _real_, just standing there leaning against the railing of Sora's porch, waiting for the brunet to come outside because it's a thousand degrees cooler out in the dancing ocean breeze than it is in the house. He's looking at the smooth wood doorframe as Sora shoves the screen door open way too hard, and if Sora hadn't been looking right at Riku's gorgeous fucking face he would have missed the hint of a half-smirk-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Come on, idiot child, if you break the door Mom won't let us out," Riku sighs, rolling his eyes under his long silver fringe as Sora delicately replaces the oft-abused wood.

"Idiot child," Sora scoffs, elbowing Riku in the ribs as he brushes by. "Least I don't look like a girl."

There's an arm around his neck and knuckles digging into his scalp before he even reaches the bottom step, and he should be thinking about how dangerously close to the concrete his knees are heading but is instead focusing way too much on every single little pinpoint of space where his body was in direct or indirect contact with Riku's. 15 notable, nameable locations, plus half a dozen "downward slope-y section of cheek, mid-rib torso-bit, webby-space between thumb and fore-finger," spots.

"Fine, fine," Sora yields, choking the words out past the admittedly not-very-tight grip. "I take it back, you don't look like a girl."

"And?" Riku prompts. The fist in his brown hair has unclenched, relaxed fingers hovering over his scalp in a way that his undoubtedly a warning but really just feels rather nice. Sora considers leaning up into it, nuzzling the soft pads of Riku's fingertips until the older teen brushes them through his mane of hair and scratches behind the ear…Jesus Christ.

"A-and," Sora stutters, "you have the most luscious, glorious hair I've ever seen on another human being, male or female, and its perfection is unrivaled by silly trivialities like gender."

Riku releases him with a laugh, arm sliding back out from around his neck, fingers only lingering long enough to ruffle his brunet spikes lightly before retreating. Sora straightens up, stumbling forward a few steps on the path as he scrambles desperately for some shred of his dignity.

"It really is pretty though."

Oh for the love of fuck, Sora, that's the _opposite_of dignity, you imbecile. He's blushing so hard he actually feels like his ears are in danger of lighting his hair on fire. At least Riku's not close enough, and it's mostly dark outside, and put both a few steps and his back between them.

"My hair? Did you just say my _hair_ was _pretty_?"

Riku sounds weird. Sora'd expected him to be teasing, at the very least openly laughing, but there's something weirdly quiet and sincere about the question. It's one of those things that isn't supposed to ever slip through carefully guarded lips, and it's enough that Sora turns around to get a proper look at Riku while he answers, because at the very least this is _interesting_, and at the very best maybe he could use this to his advantage.

"Is that a real question?" Sora waits until Riku's caught up enough with him that he can tug lightly on a twist of silver and say something deep and profound that will make Riku realize the sincerity of his undying devotion. "Unicorns would be jealous of this shit."

Close enough.

"Unicorns?" Riku breathes out a laugh, looking up at Sora even though Sora's at least four inches shorter than him, and oh god he's doing that thing _again_, with his stupid face, that one thing where he smiles so small and so quiet it's barely a whisper, a soft reaction that he can't quite gather control of until it's too late. Sora stares at Riku's lips for long seconds even after a more traditionally impassive expression takes over.

"You're insane, you know that?"

Insane, yes. Definitely. Delusional, pathetic, a big fat weenie, royally fucked. Those too. Crazy and borderline creepy and obsessed and stupid and cowardly and, yes, insane.

Sora's too busy struggling to keep his hands at his sides, instead of slapping himself repeatedly in the face, to notice the small, involuntary smile Riku cautiously aims at the ground beneath their feet.

* * *

3. _If only you saw what I can see  
You'll understand why I want you so desperately_

* * *

And see, the thing about Riku is that he couldn't just leave it at being aching beautiful on the surface. No, of course not, Riku had to go and have this battered and bruised and breathtakingly beautiful heart that kept beating and beating no matter how bad it got, and goddammit Riku couldn't you just stick with being a soulless asshole of a person, shiny on the outside and rotten to the core? Wouldn't that just be better for everyone involved?

Because there are all these little things, little every day things that he does without thinking about it, without even realizing what it does or how it looks on him. Things like hustling the last few steps to the ice cream parlor so he can hold the door open for a woman and her three kids, and Sora. Things like showing up at Sora's house at 3:00 AM after Sora asked if 18 was too old to be having nightmares. Things he says are his minute attempts at repaying humanity for the things he's done wrong, over and over and over again, no matter how often Sora insists he doesn't owe a single cent of repentance to anyone.

Like now. Now, standing on that same beach just a few weeks later, in the aftermath of a (pretty standard, for this time of the year) low-grade hurricane, yanking his hair up into a ponytail and holding out a 10-gallon trash bag for Sora.

"You want us to what?" Sora repeats, staring at the black plastic whipping in the still-decently-strong wind. It's tearing through everything, pulling and plucking and ripping at everything it can grab, and Riku's just standing there with his hair in his face and his clothes straining away from his body and a dead-serious look in his eyes.

"Everyone's worried about cleaning up the streets and picking debris out of their own yards," Riku explains, again, and Sora's really trying hard to pay attention this time. It's easier with half his eyes obscured by the wind-plastered silver hair. "But the thing is, if the tide comes in with all this garbage still on the beach, it's going to get taken back out again and seriously pollute the ocean."

And Sora's staring at him again, now, wide-eyed and completely amazed, but it's a different kind of staring than his 'wow I want to pin you down and lick every square inch of your body,' or even his previous 'you are absurd and you want me to clean up garbage what is wrong with you?'

No, now he's looking at him like Riku's the most exquisite creature to ever exist in this and any other world, and god damn if he _isn't_, because Sora's quite certain that he's never met anyone who's come even close to rivaling Riku's beautiful soul. He's inspiring and he's incredible and he's indescribable and the brunet could spend days and days waxing long, aching poetry about the utter, glorious perfection of his best friend and only spend the first few hours on his face (and maybe another two on the hair).

Riku's starting to blush under the intense scrutiny, averting his eyes from his younger friend's face in favor of a fallen tree branch 20 yards down the shore. This, of course, does nothing but make him even more striking, brooding and thoughtful and still a little embarrassed, turquoise eyes even brighter than usual in the dismal gray atmosphere.

"God you're extraordinary," Sora breathes.

"What?" Riku turns back to look at him, and Sora can't tell if his cheeks are pink from the wind or as remnants of his previous staring or because he actually did hear Sora, but as he's yet to start his awkward, unable-to-accept-compliments dance, the brunet's inclined to think that yet another opportunity has passed.

He sighs and reaches out for the trash bag, and he's not going to think about the way his fingers graze the back of Riku's hand despite the fact that there's more than enough spare plastic for him to grab.

"Never mind. Last person to fill their bag has to buy me dinner."

* * *

4. _Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe_  
_You don't know you're beautiful_

* * *

Sometimes Sora considers that Riku knows exactly what he's doing to him. He must. How could he possibly being doing it otherwise; how could he possibly know every single, solitary nerve to gentle poke and prod and press and tease until Sora's a whimpering, quivering mess of want and need and _Riku hasn't even touched him_.

Except, of course, that Riku would never be that cruel to him. Riku would never torment Sora like this on purpose, twisting the curling desire in the pit of Sora's stomach as casually as a strand of that long, glossy hair. He isn't like that, isn't the type of person to pit Sora up against every fiber of his self-control.

Except that's exactly what he's doing. That's exactly what he's _been_doing, every since…well, ever, really, but particularly ever since he slid into the booth next to Sora, squishing him flush up against the wall as they made room for Kairi. The benches were made for two and a half asses at best, less if you're actually planning on using your hands to eat your food, and the space between Sora and Riku is negligible at best and non-existent at most. He can feel him in all the kinds of places you don't ordinarily find yourself casually touching someone; dry elbow wrinkles catching together, leg hair tickling Sora's calf, knee caps knocking every time Riku shifts his weight. He can feel him, and he can feel every last touch, burning and branding and searing into him in ways that just cinch another knot into the coil of heat inside him, winding him up like a loaded gun.

And then, ugh, lets not mention the smell. Because really, they were in the middle of a greasy diner, at a table laden with mostly deep-friend deliciousness and burgers, in a crowd of six rowdy beach bums straight off the shore, so there was no possible explanation for why Riku smelled so damn good. Sea salt and sunscreen and still a hint of soap and that girly shampoo he doesn't admit to using, and none of that should even be able to reach him under the overpowering aroma of fresh-off-the-grill cheeseburgers and French fries swimming in ketchup, and still it's somehow the only thing Sora can focus on.

It doesn't help, either, sitting so damn close that he can hear every subtle little noise Riku makes. Not just the obvious ones; the chuckle at the look on Tidus' face when he's served up a 10 lbs. burger, the outraged whine when Kairi steals his fries. The little things, intimate little details of a person's everyday existence, the blissful sigh after that first bite, the scrape of nails against an itchy scab, they made Sora want and want and want, want to know what other quiet little noises Riku made when no one else was listening, what Sora had to do to _make_ some of those quiet little noises. God he just wants he wants he wants and there's no way Riku's doing it on purpose because why would he but _god_, just say the word and he'd shove the entire table full of food straight to the floor and let Riku have his way with him right there in the middle of the stupid diner while their friends watched.

"Hey."

There's a hand on his thigh. A hand. On his thigh. And both of his are present and accounted for and there's a wall on his right side and that hand on his thigh is teasing that delicate line between hip and knee, fingers curling inward towards the space between his legs. There's a hand on his thigh and a low voice in his ear and Sora's definitely lost the ability to breathe because he'd know that voice if it was a whisper at a rock concert.

"I just said your name like five times, you okay?"

Sora turns to look, despite knowing so, so much better, and is greeted with the side of worried teal eyes only inches away from his own face. He knew it would be there, both from experience and sound perception, but the appearance of Riku's nose right there in front of him still startles him. He's not alone – Riku is wide-eyed and staring, and if Sora could manage to readjust his gaze (he couldn't) he would notice the classic nervous tell as Riku presses the tip of his pink tongue out to slowly wet his lips.

"I –" Sora stumbles, false start, but Riku doesn't seem to notice. He's staring at something just south of Sora's blue eyes, and if the brunet didn't know better he'd guess it was his _lips_. It's almost perfect, in that cinematic way where the world around them slows to a haze of underwater motion with a muffled soundtrack of indiscriminate background noise because everything pales in comparison to them.

It's not perfect though, because Sora can't get the words out, can't even figure out how to line them up nicely on the tip of his tongue, and the moment passes. Selphie says something asinine and no doubt laden with innuendo that makes Sora's gut crawl like he has worms, but Riku rises to the bait and pulls away from their unwitting staring contest in favor of the brunette girl.

Sora lets him go, the conversation ending with a light squeeze and timely retreat from the hand on his leg, and tries not to think about the lines he so desperately wanted to, and almost just did, cross.

* * *

5. _That's what makes you beautiful._

* * *

It's a nothing day that breaks him. He's always known it would happen eventually, always known that one day Riku was just going to be too much for him to ignore. He just always thought it would be something significant, cinematic, something with the bright sun shine or a midnight thunderstorm, something with a song and a story to be retold over and over: that one time that Sora Strife grabbed romance by the balls and planted one square on his best friend's lips.

But it's a nothing day. Not even – it's a less than nothing day, the kind of totally mindless, monotonous day that would otherwise have stayed lost in oblivion: cloudy but not raining, cool but not cold, dull but not mind-numbing. They're sprawled on the couch in Sora's basement watching a movie that shall remain nameless and never be spoken of again, salvaging their masculinity by making snide remarks about the quality of everything from the lighting to the main actor's hair.

"I mean look at him," Riku scoffs, pointing vaguely at the screen. "He's basically just a freak with weird hair and an extreme aversion to the sun. Why is everyone fawning all over him like he's the most gorgeous thing since Adonis?"

"Freak with weird hair and white as a ghost?" Sora snorts, letting his head loll to the side to stare at Riku. "Funny, I totally know someone else fitting that description."

A face-full of pillow moments later is not entirely unexpected, but he's far too lethargic to defend himself. He lets it fall heavily into his lap, saving it for an opportunity later.  
"I'm not a freak," Riku insists, and it's weirdly whiny of him. "You're the only freaky one here."

"But you're not denying the weird hair or the ghost status," Sora teases. He's tilted his head the rest of the way to the side, abandoning the movie entirely in favor of watching his friend's face. Riku's not looking at him, carefully neutral face still directed at the screen Sora knows he's not watching, and it's a flashback to those old childhood days when Riku was hot-headed and easily offended.

He reaches a hand over and flicks the tip of Riku's ear lightly.

"Freak," he goads. "You live on an island, go out in the sun every now and then."

And now Riku's definitely sulking, for real, and Sora's mostly laughing but also just a little bit concerned about crossing lines. They were no-holds-barred (minus, you know, the minor detail about Sora being obsessed with every damn inch of Riku), always had been, which makes it weird for Riku to get touchy about something as stupid as his inability to hold a proper tan.

"It works for him," Riku grumbles petulantly, jerking his head again at the pale actor.

Opportunity indeed. Sora grabs the corner of the pillow in his lap and wails Riku square in the face with it, taking the moping teen by surprise if his muffled yelp is any indication.

"Moron," he groans, pulling the pillow back to himself before Riku can recover. "It works pretty damn well for you too."

"No it doesn't," Riku insists, "or did you not just call me a freaky ghost?"

Sora can't believe he wasted his damn pillow moment, but he goes for it again anyway. Riku's ready, this time, blocking the projectile with his forearm before turning to roll his eyes at the brunet gaping incredulously at him.

"Are you absolutely kidding me?" he finally forces out. It's the jump-start he needs to really get his momentum going, leaping to his feet and jabbing the remote at the TV to pause on a particularly rough image of the offending actor. "Look at this guy," he demands, gesturing so violently with the remote that he nearly puts a hole through the flat screen. "Look at this asshole, Ri, he fucking _sparkles_. He's a creepy ginger virgin asshole who _sparkles_, and maybe he's got a decent body but…you…"

Sora trails off helplessly, his whole being deflating mid-rant. Riku's just sitting on the couch staring at him, _staring_, like he's never seen Sora before in his entire life, and Sora's inclined to find it incredibly disheartening. He's never been one to half ass something, though, and now that he's started he's damn well going to finish, so he takes a deep breath and continues.

"You're perfect. You…you're like one of those ancient statues, you know? The ones that are so beautiful they hurt to look at because you just want to cry at how painstakingly perf –"

Riku shoving himself up off the couch didn't register, and the two hands cupping his jaw don't quite sink in right away, but the lips pressing insistently against his open mouth are pretty damn hard to miss. Sora doesn't hesitate, not even for a second, steadying himself with a hand on each of Riku's hips and leaning forward into hands down the most beautiful thing Riku's ever done.

* * *

oops. these things happen.


End file.
